


Part of Your Symphony

by inkbadger



Series: Broken Wings [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All sorts of cute shenanigans, Allura and Coran are overprotective, Angst, Blue ships it, Did I say oblivious Shiro?, Female pronouns for Pidge, Flock dynamic, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hunk helps, I meant SHIRO IN DENIAL, Lance and Keith have a bonding moment, Lance in total denial about feelings, M/M, Nesting, PTSD Shiro, Pidge is a genius, Pidge will commit murder if anyone hurts Lance, Platonic Shiro/Everyone, Science bros to the rescue, Sentient Lions, Wingfic, mindmelding, oblivious Shiro, pining lance, ptsd lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkbadger/pseuds/inkbadger
Summary: Lance might be recovering from his time with the Galra, but he's still struggling with the thought of removing the Galran wing Haggar grafted onto him- regardless of his newfound ability to fly.Pidge however, has an idea- one she's going to need backup for to make work.Alternatively-Lance begins to think he might have a crush on Shiro, Shiro is oblivious, and Pidge tries her hand at prosthetics.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part II of the Broken Wings series! I'm really excited to work on this installment because it's going to be a bit lighter than Part I was. Plus oblivious idiots are too perfect.

Contrary to popular belief, nesting was only so comfortable for so long. Especially when two of your number happen to have the equivalent number of wings for four.

He blinked, his body instinctively tensing to react to whatever threat had woken him, when he remembered where he was and who he was with. The last thing he remembered, he’d been dozing on the back of the couch.

Looked like he’d either migrated in sleep or been moved by someone to join the rest of the flock.

Lance grunted as someone- Pidge, probably- rolled into him, elbow digging sharply into his ribs. Thankfully, he was on the outskirts of the flock’s nest, constructed in the middle of the lounge with the back of the couches providing the walls. Thus, he was able to escape rather easily and with minimal fuss from his cuddle-mates.

(Sidenote: it had _totally_ been Pidge.)

He waited until he had made it to the safety and quiet of the corridor to stretch, his long, broad wings creaking with the motion. The larger Galran wing was functional, but Lance had come to find that it didn’t have the same range of sensory input as his biological one over time. He felt like an old man.

He rotated his shoulders next as he started walking, swinging his arms and wincing at the pinch in his prosthetic shoulder and arm. Some days, the pain was bearable- an ache compared to the worse days. The others had been tiptoeing around him until he’d finally snapped at them in exasperation. He loved them like family, but if they had continued walking on eggshells around him he would have gone insane. The good news was that they’d all gotten it once he explained that some days he was going to be crankier than others- Shiro had made a face even as he rubbed the joint between his own prosthetic and his shoulder.

Lance was fairly certain that Shiro was pretending that his prosthetic didn’t bother him.

First on his list of stops was the bathroom- he would shower later, after he’d finished his training.

He flushed, yawning as he washed his hands and examining himself in the mirrored tile above the sink.

Lance knew he’d aged since leaving Earth and becoming a part of Voltron; even more so since being captured by the Galra. There were faint creases around his eyes now, dark bags that seemed to be ever present no matter what he did. There were faint patches of stubble coming in along his jaw, marked and interrupted by white scars that he’d collected from missions and… other circumstances he would rather forget.

Not to mention that his hair was growing long, almost hanging into his eyes.

He frowned, tugging at a strand of the brunette locks and eying it critically. He would ask Coran if there was something he would use to cut it himself later- otherwise he would just have to tough it out. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he didn’t do so well with sharp objects near him if he wasn’t the one holding them. Just like he didn’t cope well with the castle’s alarm system, sudden movements in his direction, the color _purple_ in some instance…

He groaned.

Too much thinking was going to get him nowhere.

Lance almost staggered down the corridor toward his room for a change of clothes. He hadn’t intended to pass out in the lounge, but here he was, awake at an ungodly hour due to his own thoughts and Pidge’s sharp elbows.

His dreams were never really substantial- mostly colors and the sense of unease that something was wrong. Most of the time he didn’t even dream. One second he was falling asleep, the next he was awake. Nothing in between.

He didn’t even realize that he was on autopilot until he found himself standing in the training deck, his hand poised over the keypad. Blinking, he keyed in the specs for the simulation, tweaking it from the blade settings Keith had been using the night before to a hand to hand setting.

“Begin simulation.”

The gladiator dropped from the ceiling as Lance fell into a crouch.

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro was up shortly before he knew Keith would rouse himself, noting Lance’s absence as he disentangled himself from aforementioned dark haired male and Hunk with a sigh of relief. The pair were notorious cuddlers in their sleep, moving in like leeches and generating _way_ too much heat to be comfortable.

He took a moment to survey the group- Allura and Coran had paired up at some point, wings overlapping one another and cocooning themselves off from the rest of the team. Altean sleeping arrangements seemed odd to Shiro.

Pidge was hunkered down behind Hunk, the space left behind her likely where Lance had settled at some point, and she frowned and made a noise in the back of her throat before shifting a wing to make up for the blanket that had slipped off of her shoulder.

It was small things, Shiro smiled softly as he retreated from the room, careful not to make much noise until he was a fair distance away. It was also too bad they were out in open space- it would have been nice to get out and stretch his wings before headed to the training deck and then down to his lion. As it was, he was going to make a quick stop in the kitchen for something to eat before heading down to train.

He knew where his preferred food source was kept- it was some kind of granola/cereal crossover that had the consistency of charcoal but otherwise tasted fine, if a little bland. He poured himself a bowl of it, added some of Coran’s food goo to balance the texture, and seated himself cross-legged on one of the stools at the counter, flicking his wings as he contemplated when the last time they had been groomed. It was an odd habit of his, when he was alone.

Shiro always seemed to manage to contort himself into strange positions while he was relaxing on his own- Keith could probably provide many stories of their days in the Garrison and the younger walking in to find him upside-down or tilted sideways while he studied notes, wings splayed out across everything in sight.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the door open or someone enter until a soft sound had Shiro automatically activating his Galran arm, turning seamlessly to face the intruder-

And coming face to face with a defensive Lance, his own arm glowing faintly as he eyed him up. It looked like the younger had just come from the showers- his hair was damp, a towel around his neck.

“Sorry, Lance.” Shiro sighed, backing down and rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Guess I was thinking too loud again.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I should have made noise instead of sneaking up on you.” The younger brushed it off, his wings settling as his prosthetic returned to its default appearance. “Hey, while I’m thinking about it, do you have scissors or something that I could borrow for my hair? It’s getting too long for my liking.”

“Oh. Yeah, actually. Got the Altean version of an electrical trimmer you can borrow if you like, or you can check with Coran- I think there’s some scissors of some kind you could use, too.”

“Yeah, don’t know if I’m ready to try that undercut yet.” The younger snorted, a faint smile ghosting across his lips as he moved over to the cupboard to grab a bowl and poured himself some of the weird charcoal-granola. “Besides, I don’t think anyone’s ready to see that. You have the uncanny ability to pull it off, but I don’t think the rest of us would be so lucky.”

Shiro hummed in reply, studying Lance as he seated himself on the counter across from him. Not for the first time, he noted how Lance seemed to be so much more serious than he used to. Tired. Sure, he was beginning to regain some of his former self, but there was a lot that had changed.

“Were you training?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” The younger offered, getting started on his bowl of food. “Been up for a couple of hours, I think. I was going to head down and see Blue after this. You?”

“Just got up. I think I’ve got a while before Keith’s up- he seems to think he has to train with me every morning.” Shiro swallowed, rotating his shoulder and wincing at the crack it made.

“Want some company? If you like, I mean. It’s been a while since I’ve actually trained with any of you guys since…”

Lance trailed off, but Shiro didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence to know what he meant.

“If you’re up to it, I wouldn’t mind a sharpshooter looking after my back in simulation.” Shiro offered gently, smiling at the faint look of surprise on Lance’s features. “Wouldn’t want you to get out of practice.”

“No, I guess not.” Lance barked out a laugh, his features loosening into a more genuine expression.

They finished their breakfasts and wandered to the training deck, Shiro keying in the simulation specs. He adjusted the settings for five hand to hand gladiators and four blade gladiators, upping the level to four.

Lance took his position up in the rafters that was designed for the long-distance fighters, flashing a thumbs up to Shiro as his bayard took form and his wings folded behind him.

“Begin simulation.”

Lance inhaled, pushing through the initial fear as the gladiators dropped around Shiro, blades and hands gleaming under the lights. He couldn’t afford those feelings now- despite it being a simulation, gladiators could and would hurt whoever they were against.

He stared down his scope, breathing light as he exhaled and began picking off the gladiators surrounding his flock mate.

Shoulder.

Shoulder.

Chest.

Thigh.

Head.

Those he was able to get a kill-shot off on went down with bullets through the head and throat, the others going down with serious injuries and leaving Shiro to pick them off at his leisure.

It didn’t take long for it to become obvious that the two of them versus nine gladiators was a bit unfair to the gladiators. Lance was completely focused in his mission, able to pick off their opponents with ease while Shiro grappled with the few that were left.

“Pause simulation.” Shiro called out, panting lightly as he stretched out his wings to cool off.

“You alright?” Lance called down to him, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking of upping the gladiator count. Would you be okay with adding a couple sharpshooters against us?” the other returned.

“Yeah. Should be fine.”

Shiro strode over to the keypad, adjusted the settings, and took up position again, glancing up to Lance and resuming the simulation once he’d nodded.

The difference was immediate- Lance had to duck and pin his wings down as the sharpshooters put him under heavy fire. But he popped back up again, firing off shots in that direction and pinning them down against the furthest wall. Thankfully, they weren’t programmed to attack Shiro as well as Lance, or there would have been a bigger problem. Still, nine against one was no small feat, and Shiro was beginning to show signs of distress the longer that Lance was held up by the pair of gladiator marksmen.

Growling, he activated his prosthetic arm as a shield, moving it ahead of his face so that he could focus his energy on keeping Shiro from taking damage. Perhaps it was slightly self-sacrificial of himself, but his instincts took over on that front and he couldn’t help but fall into a sort of trance, as if he wasn’t really the one behind the rifle.

He bit back a yelp as one of the shots hit his bad shoulder, the prosthetic vibrating in the joint.

A moment later, Shiro called it, leaning over to catch his breath, wings trembling from the exertion. Forty-five minutes wasn’t bad at all with two of them against that many opponents- especially with Lance’s sharpshooting skills. He really had a natural skill for it.

The younger of the pair climbed out of the blind and dropped down, flaring his wings to glide to the floor.

Shiro could see that Lance had been hit- his false shoulder, by the looks of it. And yet he straightened, pretended that there was nothing wrong.

“Lance, you’re hit.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. How’s your shoulder?”

Lance faltered, and Shiro sighed, moving closer to stretch out a hand and touch his shoulder.

“I think something got damaged in the prosthetic.” The brunette finally admitted, sagging. “Not the arm.”

“We should get Pidge to check it out.” He frowned, concerned.

“Later.” Lance pleaded. “I don’t want to wake her up. She hasn’t been sleeping great.”

Shiro eyed him up, taking in the defeated stance, the drooped wings, and huffed.

“Fine. But please, get it checked out before tonight. We don’t want you hurting any longer than you have to.” He replied.

“Yeah. I will.” Lance promised. “I’m going to go see Blue and then Pidge if she’s up by then.”

“Alright. I’m going to hit the showers. I’ll see you at lunch.”

Lance nodded, following Shiro to the door before parting ways.

 

* * *

 

 

Blue was already purring in the back of his mind as Lance entered her hangar, the large cat sitting on her haunches and her tail flicking.

_My Paladin._ She purred, images flooding his mind of the other paladins wandering past her from the last several days.

“Hey, beautiful.” Lance cooed, warmth sitting in his chest as he touched her gigantic paw. “Missed me?”

_Of course._ She replied, moving her head to look down at him. _Always._

“Charmer.”

Her amusement bounced down their bond to him, light and mischievous.

_Learned much from you._ She pointed out, adjusting herself to lay down in front of him. She looked more like a housecat than a part of Voltron at that moment, her eyes gleaming with affection for her paladin.

“I hear I’m a wonderful teacher.”

_Hn._

A low rumble was his reply. Blue tilted her head at him, flicking her ears forward. _You are injured._

“Yeah.”

Here, there was no use in hiding it from her. Blue was as much a part of him now than he ever had been. She was the cool breeze, the soft waves crashing against the sands, her love for him as free as the ocean and the sky.

_And yet you hide it from your flock._

“I don’t try to. It just happens.” He defended with a shrug, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. The shot had burnt skin- it was stinging with a vengeance.

_Share your hurt with me._ Blue invited, her mental ‘voice’ soothing. _Let me ease it._

Lance closed his eyes, hesitantly allowing what few barriers he had to disappear and his aches and pains to echo to his lion. Blue always managed to get him to agree to it- she refused to allow him to wallow in his thoughts and definitely refused to allow him suffer when she wanted to help him. She was so stubborn when she felt inclined to start picking fights with him. Or rather, when he began to bicker with her.

_You will see the small one later?_ She inquired, the tone somehow an order as well as a question.

“As much as I don’t want to, yeah.” He agreed. “It just doesn’t seem like much in the big picture.”

_You are a part of that picture, My Paladin._ Blue reminded him. _Your heart is wounded from what that witch did to you. Your flock only wishes to see you safe. To help ease your hurt as I do._

It sounded so simple when she said it.

_Because it is._

He scowled at her, even as his mind felt as though it were spiralling slightly out of his control.

“It sounds simple, but in reality it’s hard, Blue. I’m just a human-I can’t just push aside all of these things and be the same person I was.”

_And I do not ask that you do._ Blue replied, moving so that her maw was nearly touching him. Her eyes stared him down. _I simply see things from a new perspective. It is true that you will not be the same- you are something new. Embrace the difference. If you fall I will catch you, as I always will._

“You can’t promise that.” He accused.

_No. But I will try. You are MY Paladin. I chose you._

She said it with a finality that sunk deeply into his bones. So certain of what she knew. He appreciated her perspective most of the time, and much of what she had to say. But there were some things that even he was blind to, and it was usually on the topic of himself.

“I still wonder why, some days.” He smiled, leaning to place his forehead against her warm metallic nose.

_Because I have taste in my Paladins._ She sniffed.

There was an indignant rumble from the next hangar over- Red’s hangar. Blue looked terribly pleased with herself as she purred and gently moved to nuzzle her paladin, wings flaring as Lance tried to keep his balance.

“You’re incorrigible.” He chuckled, his mood lightening as he ran his hands over her muzzle affectionately.

_As I said- I learned much from you._ She chuckled in return, finally falling silent as the pair enjoyed the other’s company.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead! Also a bonding moment.

“Well, you’ve definitely managed to damage the prosthetic joint.” Pidge declared, sitting back on her heels and looking at the holographic scanner in her hand. Her brows furrowed as she pulled up a larger image of his shoulder, blowing it up with her thumb and pointer finger and humming thoughtfully.

“Whatever was used for the joint is really not working, either. It’s beginning to wear down the other bones and muscles around it. Probably because it’s a foreign body and Galra tech kind of sucks.”

Lance felt a little sick, looking at the holographic image of what was currently inside of his shoulder. Thankfully, Pidge minimized the image, looking at him with a silent brow raised expression. It was the Pidge way of asking if he was okay.

“So what does it mean.” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to ignore the stiffness that had settled in over the past several hours in his prosthetics.

“Well, it seems like the joint was only supposed to be a quick fix- temporary. Since it’s been a few months since it was implanted, it’s starting to break down with use.” Pidge outlined, falling into her typical lecture tone. Lance suspected it was, in part, so that she wouldn’t show how angry she was about the situation. It wasn’t exactly a secret that she wanted to find Haggar and physically rip the witch’s head from her shoulders and stick it on a pole for everyone to see. “Basically, it needs to be replaced. More complicated? If the readings from your arm are similar, you might be looking at full limb loss.”

She didn’t look happy saying the words, looking down at her hands for a moment before back at him.

“Lance, I’m sorry. I don’t like saying it, but you might want to consider it as a possibility.”

“No, it’s fine, Pidge. I had a feeling.” Lance smiled wanly. “I guess I just hoped that it wasn’t true.”

He shuffled his wings, blinking as the next question rose to his mind.

“Would you mind doing a scan of my wings and the arm while I’m here?”

“Yeah, of course.” She muttered, pushing her glasses up her nose and gesturing at him to move so she could get the scanner adjusted correctly.

“Hey Pidge, could you- oh, Lance. Everything okay?”

No, everything was not okay, because Keith had just wandered into the room and Lance could feel his blood pressure rising. It was bad enough feeling vulnerable around one overprotective flock member. Two was beginning to push it.

Keith was rubbing at the joint at his shoulder, looking uncomfortable as he averted his eyes from the situation. Lance, with his shirt pulled off, revealing his scarred chest and back, the scars around his prosthetic completely visible.

His wings flared faintly in warning before he could stop himself, fluffing himself up to look larger.

It was like they had a life of their own, he swore.

“Mullet.” He greeted, wondering why his throat had suddenly gone dry and the words were like sandpaper. “Just getting my shoulder checked out.”

Keith, to his credit, didn’t even glance at anything below his neck- his attention was focused solely on Lance’s face, looking for any indication that he was really feeling stressed to the point of triggering an attack.

“Lance, calm down. It’s just Keith.” Pidge soothed, running her small hand over his biological wing and crooking her fingers to adjust feathers. The sensation was foreign, considering that he really didn’t let anyone close enough to touch him, but something in his chest settled at the fact that it was Pidge. Pidge wouldn’t hurt him- she was safe. “Just hold still for a second so I can get a good read on your wings.”

“I can go-“ Keith started, holding up his hands.

“It’s fine.” Pidge answered for Lance, her free hand gentle as she manually adjusted his Galran wing and scanned it. “We’re just about done anyway. What’s up?”

“I think I might have pulled something in my shoulder from training.”

“Again? Keith, I just finished telling you to take it easy for a few days!” Pidge groaned, poking her head around Lance’s shoulders to narrow her eyes at the dark haired male. His wings, at least, had the decency to drop slightly, even as Keith crossed his arms over his chest defiantly at the smaller female. “And when did I suddenly become the medical expert on this ship, anyway?”

“When Coran tried to tell me that I needed freaky alien leeches to fix a broken ankle.” The darker haired male deadpanned, shifting his weight as his wings caught the light and gleamed with their usual dark violet iridescence. “And let’s be honest- Allura’s version of medical knowledge relies on the healing pods exclusively.”

“Right.” The tiny blond muttered, finishing up her ministrations behind Lance before clicking her tongue. “Alright Lance, wings are done. Just need the arm and you can get dressed while I download these onto my system.”

He tentatively offered the aforementioned limb, carefully avoiding eye contact with Keith as he did so. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Keith- far from it. But since everything had happened, it was taking time to readjust himself. Pidge, he trusted. Hunk, he trusted. Shiro was well on his way to earning trust, but Keith was the odd one out. Perhaps because he and Lance had always seemed to have clashing personalities. Where Lance was water, cool and mischievous and sometimes far too level-headed nowadays, Keith was fire and instinct and passion.

Needless to say, they got along like oil and water on their worst days and a house on fire on their better days.

But it was Keith, and this was _now_ , after everything that had happened. Trust was a slow thing that couldn’t be rushed. Unless Pidge was in the room, apparently.

“And done.”

Lance pulled his shirt back on, rolling the sleeve on his left arm up to the elbow. The prosthetic was too bulky to wear his long sleeved shirts comfortably any longer- something that continually irked him. Even his jacket was a bit difficult to maneuver in now, and that was a situation he was _really_ not enjoying. It had been a gift from his eldest siblings after he had been accepted into the Garrison.

“Alright, while that’s uploading, let’s take a look at you.” Pidge muttered, gesturing Keith over with an irritable scowl. “Not that there’s going to be anything I can do about it other than tell you to stop being an idiot and overdoing it.”

To his credit, Keith looked appropriately scolded as he sat, pulling his shirt over his head and allowing Pidge to run nimble fingers over the joint and down to the groove where feathers joined with skin and back again.

“Well, it’s definitely swollen again. This time I mean it when I say that you need to take it easy- otherwise you’re going to really screw it to hell and you’ll be grounded. And then we’ll all be listening to you whining because you’ll still try to fly with a bad shoulder and wing and _then_ -“

“Alright, I get it! I’ll take it easy!” Keith snapped, grabbing his shirt and pulling it back over his shoulders. “Geez, Pidge.”

“Don’t start that with me.” The smaller growled, cuffing him with a wing.

Lance couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. Pidge was really turning into the cranky space-mom of their flock. It was strangely endearing to watch, considering that she was the youngest of their group.

“Now go find an icepack or something and stop hurting yourself, you idiot!”

Keith ducked as the plastic beaker soared over his head, beating a hasty retreat as Pidge rubbed the bridge of her nose in exasperation. She muttered something under her breath that sounded like askance for patience from the gods before turning her attention back to the main computer.

“Sorry about that, Lance.” She said softly. “I didn’t expect Keith to wander in. Are you okay?”

“Loaded question, but yeah. I’m good.”

They were quiet for several minutes, Pidge sifting through coding and holograms until the system pinged that the analysis was complete.

“So? What’s the verdict?” He asked, a knowing smirk crossing his features as his heart sunk.

“Well, the good news is that your arm’s holding up for now. Bad news is, it’s made from the same materials as your shoulder, so it’s probably going to need to be removed sooner rather than later. Otherwise you’ll be looking at a lot more than a missing arm.” Pidge frowned, studying the images in front of her carefully. “Unfortunately, there’s not a lot we can do. Galran tech is out of my league, and half of the chemical compounds in their metals are like mashing up every old language known to man and calling it good.”

“So I’m- I’m going to lose my arm.”

“I’m so sorry, Lance.”

And she was- he could see it in every line in her face and her body, her wings drooping in defeat. She looked like she had taken a shot to the gut.

“No, no. It’s-“

He wanted to say that he would be fine, pretend that it was, but the words died on his lips as he tried to speak them.

“Look, I know it’s hardly my place, but you take the time you need, okay? We’re going to do this on _your_ terms.” Pidge said firmly. “And I’m not going to stop looking for other ways around this, okay?”

He nodded.

Pidge hesitated only a moment before crossing the distance between them, her arms wrapping around his waist as she buried her face in his chest, clinging to him like it was all that was connecting her to the world.

“I’m going to kill Haggar for doing this to you.” She said thickly. Lance didn’t have to see her face to know that she was tearing up. His shoulders relaxed, and he carefully rested his arms around her shoulders, basking in the simple touch that she provided. He knew that he was touch-starved, having avoided so many people for so long, but it was things like this that seemed to help. Mainly Pidge, though. She and Hunk had stuck through all of his drama without batting an eye.

As had the rest of the flock and Allura and Coran. Admittedly, the Alteans seemed to be making themselves scarce around Lance- he was almost certain it was because Allura was feeling guilty, and Coran was keeping her company to make sure that she didn’t do anything reckless.

“I know, Pidge.”

“Good. Now go do whatever it is you do when you aren’t in my sanctum.”

She wiped her eyes and then frowned at him, flicking her wings back. It was nice seeing Pidge so warm towards people, but sadly, it wasn’t a frequent occurrence, considering that there was some part of her that still feared losing them. Lance had a feeling his capture was the most recent fuel to that fire.

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was safe to say he had definitely not been expecting Keith to be waiting for him as he left Pidge’s lab. The darker haired male was leaning against the wall, flicking his knife through his fingers with practiced ease, looking entirely too relaxed.

“Keith.” He greeted, wary.

“Hey.”

He quirked a brow before turning and beginning to wander down the hall, the other falling into step beside him.

“Look, I know it’s really not my place, but if you want to talk, I’m here.” Keith finally said, shoving his hands into his pockets, wings bristling defensively. “I didn’t mean to walk in when I did, but obviously something’s going on. And I get it, sort of.”

Lance glanced out of the corner of his eye, wondering if Keith had somehow just been switched out with a very convincing fake, because if there was one thing Keith avoided like the plague, it was sharing feelings with someone other than Shiro.

And yet…

“I’m going to lose my arm.”

It was obvious that Keith hadn’t really been expecting an answer- he missed a step, almost tripping before he corrected himself. His wings flared in alarm.

“Wow.”

“I guess whatever the joint and arm are made of are corroding. Not meant to be permanent like Shiro’s.” he shrugged, trying to brush it off. His wings flared, adjusting themselves in a subtle attempt to calm himself, even as a thrill of fear set into his chest. “So now I really get to join the club. Not that there’s much left to lose on that side anyway.”

They were silent as Keith followed Lance, apparently headed for the hangars as Lance continued speaking.

“I just wish all of this was over. Having to deal with one thing after the other. It’s bad enough that I have a permanent reminder attached to my back- now I get to lose another part of myself to them.”

And God, he sounded too tired saying it. Like he was fifty instead of twenty something. Had his twenty-first birthday already come and gone?

“If there’s anyone who can make it, it’s you. You’re too stubborn to just give up now.” Keith commented, his tone a little dry. “Besides, you’re going to want to be in tip top shape when Zarkon’s ships show up again. Pidge is going to hand the witch’s ass to her before she can say _quiznak_.”

That pulled a chuckle out of him, and he nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re right on that front. Still… it’s just tiring. Some days I wish that I’d never snuck out of my dorm to see what Pidge was doing- I’d still be living in my little bubble and never know any of this. But then I look at everything here and it’s beautiful, even though there’s a war out there and we’re just kids.”

“I don’t think I could ever regret this.” Keith said quietly, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “I mean, yeah- some days I can’t even get out of bed because everything just seems to be pushing in on me. It’s fucking hard to be a kid in this war. But then again, I never had a flock before now. It’s always been me, and then Shiro, and then I was on my own again. But now there’s all of you guys.”

Something warm bloomed in Lance’s chest, and he smiled as a thought came to mind.

“Yeah. And now look at us, having a real bonding moment.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Hard to believe, considering all of my jealousy when we first met.”

“You were jealous? Of _me?_ ”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it.” Lance returned dryly. “But it’s true. Even now I’m still bitter over some of the crap you’ve put me through. I was just a cargo pilot to everyone in the Garrison. Iverson never let me live down that I was only there because you’d flunked out. It had always grated on me, y’know? You were some kind of untouchable god that no one could reach, and everyone reminded me of it at every chance they got.”

Once the words started, they just couldn’t seem to stop. All of his thoughts falling from his lips as easily as could be.

“And then came the first days of Voltron. Man, it was brutal hearing that you’d be the pilot of Red. It seemed like you were still there in that untouchable zone and the rest of us kind of trailed behind you. It’s funny- Allura never did tell me the qualities of the Blue Paladin. Even now. You’re just so natural at it- always able to stay a step ahead of us without even trying.”

“I didn’t know you thought that.”

Keith was subdued as he said it.

Lance shrugged.

“You’re just as talented, though.” The shorter protested, his brows furrowing. “I was jealous of _you_. You were always somehow keeping up with everything and just walking off everything that people said about you. And then just connecting with Blue like you did- I had to almost _die_ for Red to decide that she would save my ass. And then you just go and blow right by the rest of us in training- seriously, how do you even have that kind of natural talent for sharpshooting? And then after- after the Galra, after everything they did to you- you’re still here. You’re so much stronger than you think, Lance. It was terrifying, seeing you that quiet. You always had a smile, and then the only sign we had that you were okay was your heartbeat. We nested right next to the healing pod and had your heartbeat on audio so that we knew that you were still okay.”

It was probably the most that Lance had ever heard Keith say in one go, and it was also the most that he had heard that was _positive_.

He was now almost certain that this wasn’t Keith. (Except that it was, and he knew it was because there was no way that the iridescence in his wings could ever be replicated by anything, ever.)

“You really think that?”

“Of course I do. Otherwise I wouldn’t have said it.” Keith snapped, his cheeks flushing even as his wings fluffed themselves up. The entire look was unusual, considering that Keith looked absolutely adorable with that pout and his fluffy wings.

Lance stood still, just staring at the other until he was pretty sure Keith was biting his tongue so that he didn’t say anything to ruin the moment, before finally allowing himself to smile.

“Thank you, Keith.”

“It’s nothing.” he muttered, his cheeks still flushed. “Come on. I want to go see if Red can beat you and Blue in a race again.”

“You only won last time because you cheated!”

“Did not! Red just used the terrain to our advantage!”

“That’s the same thing!”

They bickered the rest of the way to the hangars, their words carrying little bite. Some of the tension in the air between them had finally cleared, though it was unlikely that either of them would admit it to anyone else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it's taken me this long to power out a chapter- I hit a wall and it was not easy to chisel through that sucker.

This was supposed to be an _easy_ mission.

An easy mission on a _supposedly_ peaceful, _uninhabited_ planet.

Lance was really beginning to question Coran’s continuous insistence that he wasn’t intentionally sending the paladins out on missions to these kinds of planets.

_“Lance, cover me!”_

He remembered the scream of metal being rent under the blaze of the ion cannon, the sounds of Blue’s mental voice telling him that he would be okay, that she would take care of him, before their bond blinked into something akin to unconsciousness. It was still there, but it was as if there were a wall Lance could not breach between them.

He opened his eyes.

His wing joints screamed in pain as he struggled to sit upright, taking in the thick foliage that surrounded him. It stretched on for as far as he could see, and as he looked up all he saw were massive trunks that rose high, high above him.

“Shit.” He muttered as his prosthetics refused to cooperate. His arm sparked, pain jolting up his body and into his shoulder and into the wing joint.

Not good.

As he looked around him, there was no sign of Blue anywhere, either.

Definitely not good.

His paladin armor was more or less intact, and upon inspection Lance found his bayard undamaged. The same could not be said for his helmet, however- it had a large crack running from the top all the way across the comm and to the jawline.

First thing first was to get to higher ground. However, there was no lower branches to get to easily- the lowest ones were at least a hundred feet up, and with the way that his shoulder and wings were feeling, Lance wasn’t positive that he would be able to make even that distance without injuring himself further.

“Shiro? Coran? Hunk? Pidge? Keith?” he tried over the comm, wincing at the static that greeted him. Evidently the comm had been damaged by the crack.

Deep breath.

Lance did his best to ignore the overwhelming silence that seemed to cocoon him- if he weren’t grounded, he might feel slightly more inclined to admire the dark, iridescent green canopy that stretched on above him.

_“L-nc-“_

His helmet was online. Sighing in relief, he pulled it back on, hoping that it was a good sign.

“Yeah? Hello? I’m here.” He said, warily keeping an eye out for anything native that might be interested in eating him. He recalled there being absolutely monstrous shapes with wings and claws coming at him, but he couldn’t remember anything else, and that was a reasonable reason to be concerned, as far as he thought.

_“Sh-ro. Y-u –kay?”_

“Shiro?” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, I think I’m okay. I’m grounded on this planet though. Where are you?”

_“Also on pl-net. Blue’s h-re w-th m-“_

“Alright, I’m gonna try and see if I can find you. Got any visual clues?”

_“A lo- trees?”_

“That’s helpful. Just stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

 

 

* * *

 

Hindsight was 20/20, as they said.

Not only was Lance not getting anywhere, but his shoulder was really beginning to bother him. He didn’t have to move the armor to know that he was bleeding, but didn’t particularly want to think too deeply on it. That could wait until after he found Shiro and felt Blue in the back of his mind again.

He shuddered as he remembered briefly how quiet it had gotten after Haggar’s sessions with him. How his thoughts ached and his voice was met with deafening silence.

His wings flicked, the Galran one aching.

Lance had, in fact, attempted to fly, to mixed results. He could get a little bit of distance, but between exhaustion and the looming trees with no branches to rest on, it was easier just to walk as much as possible. Thankfully- and definitely oddly, the ground had thinned in foliage, the surface of the planet almost flat save for the massive root systems of the trees.

He hated being alone. It was too quiet, too loud for him, left him with his own thoughts. And from personal experience, he knew his thoughts weren’t always a joy to be around.

Not to mention that constant sense that something was watching him. Lance could swear that there was something out there, but every time he did a slow circle, eyes studying his surroundings, there was nothing. Hell, he hadn’t even seen any signs of life up until now.

It was unnerving, to say the least.

He’d been walking for a couple of hours when Blue’s warmth spread throughout his mind again, her thoughts tired and pain tinted, but nonetheless present.

“Hey beautiful.” He greeted aloud.

_My Paladin._ Blue answered, relief evident. _You are not here- you are hurt._

“Yeah. I don’t really know what happened, but you and I are definitely going to have a chat about throwing me out of your cockpit, because goddamn, everything hurts.” Lance replied, grunting as his arm sparked again. “Also I’m pretty sure that my prosthetic is scrap metal.”

Worry love pain love.

_I can sense you. I will seek you. Black will follow._

“You’re the best, beautiful.”

_I know. Rest. I will find you soon._

She didn’t have to repeat it- gratefully, Lance climbed up on top of one of the roots, leaning against the trunk of the tree as comfortably as he was able.

Now that he paused, he realized that his shoulder was stained red, his ribs ached, and he was developing a nasty pressure behind his right eye. Adding in his prosthetics and he felt a bit like pudding with nerve endings. In great pain.

He groaned as his left arm spasmed, the electric pulses and sparks getting worse. Glancing down, he really took stock of the stupid thing, gritting his teeth as he realized that there was a chunk missing, a couple of loose wires exposed to the atmosphere.

Great.

He flexed his wings, taking stock of those next. His biological one felt like he’d strained something, while the Galran one felt way more stiff than usual. Fantastic. At this rate he would be stuffed into a healing pod the second that they got back to the castle. Something that made his skin crawl and every inch of him rebel at the thought.

Lance didn’t do well in small spaces- he never had. After his eldest sister had trapped him in a box of Christmas decorations by sitting on the top, he’d had a reasonable amount of wariness regarding small spaces. Claustrophobia, he’d later figured out.

And after Haggar and her druids had finished with him…

He flinched, good hand going to cover his eyes as though it would protect him from the memories.

Yep. No healing pods unless it was absolutely necessary.

He reclined there for a while- as to how long, he honestly couldn’t say. While his comm worked, everything else seemed to be either at minimal function or offline completely.

_My Paladin!_

The sound of thrusters reached him, a low hum that echoed eerily off the trees for several long moments before Blue and Black came into view. Blue’s mental voice thrummed with relief as she honed in on him, landing lightly despite her bulk and all but bounding over to him, lowering her muzzle to examine him. On his perch, Lance was almost eye level with her.

“Hey.” He greeted, a smile on his lips as he shoved himself upright, reaching to touch her nose. “I missed you.”

_I missed you as well. I am sorry for leaving you alone._

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

_Your mind is troubled and you are in pain. Do not lie to me, My Paladin._ She scolded, settling herself down. _I cannot take you in my cockpit. It was damaged. You will have to go with Black Paladin and Pride-Sister._

“Lance! Are you alright?”

Shiro’s wings propelled him up to the roots, his features soft with concern as he moved along the root with ease. Blue moved out of the way, keeping a careful watch over the larger lion and the pair of paladins. Shiro’s thoughts brushed against Lance’s, warm and full of concern to match his expressions as he settled down in front of him.

“My arm’s buggered to hell and my head hurts. Other than that I think I’m okay.” Lance managed to deadpan, holding back a wince and an automatic flinch away from Shiro’s gentle hands. Some things he was unable to control- others touching him was still a work in progress.

Shiro looked at him with a knowing look in his eye.

“And you’re not having any flashbacks?” he pressed.

“No. I have a weird feeling that something’s watching me, but I’m pretty sure I’m off on that one considering there’s no signs of life and nothing attacked me while I was wandering around.” Lance shook his head, wincing as something in his neck pinched.

The older almost looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it, offering Lance a hand to stand instead. Lance thought he was perfectly capable of getting back to his feet, but it was fairly evident that his body disagreed. His knees gave out under him halfway up, and it was only Shiro’s steady weight pulling him against his body that prevented Lance from taking a dive off of the root and to the ground below.

“If you wanted to be carried you only had to ask.” Shiro teased gently, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Please? I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to Black’s cockpit.” Lance replied, earning a surprised blink at the exhaustion in his voice. If he’d been feeling marginally better, it was likely he would have made a quip about the offer, but he was slowly coming to terms with the thought that there were some situations in which he needed to swallow his pride, beat off his insecurities and man up. Woman up? He didn’t know the correct terminology.

The surprise faded, and Shiro nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“Come on then. Let’s get ourselves home.” He chuckled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lance was quiet as Shiro piloted themselves back the way they’d come- apparently the thick canopy above them was nigh impenetrable without using the cannons that the lions were all equipped with, but that was something Shiro wasn’t exactly excited about. After all, Voltron was supposed to be for _protecting_ the universe- not blowing holes in the canopy of an alien planet because he didn’t like having to take the long way around to get to what had to be the single clearing on the entire damn thing.

He was able to pick up faint tells over the mental bond that all of their group shared- mostly brief flickers of discomfort and pain whenever the audible snapping from the damaged prosthetic arm rang through Black’s cockpit- but there were small bits here and there. Tired, irritated, worried, relieved, warmth that was likely directed towards Blue- it was a cycle that Shiro was certain he was only picking up due to Lance being so close to he and Black.

As if sensing that Shiro was glancing back at him, Lance looked up, blue eyes tired but curious.

“You okay?” Lance asked, a faint ghost of a smirk on his lips as he shifted, grunting as his arm sparked again.

“I could ask you the same.”

“You know I haven’t been okay for a while.” Lance pointed out, huffing a laugh before wincing.

Shiro looked frontward again, silently asking Black if she would be alright taking them home, before unbuckling himself and moving to the bench behind and to the left of his seat. There was enough room for two to sit fairly comfortably on it- Shiro did so carefully, minding that his wings were carefully tucked behind him as he sat.

“Okay, let’s rephrase that. How are you holding up in regards to your current physical state.” Shiro said dryly. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’ve got a couple busted ribs, and your shoulder kind of looks like it might have been crushed.”

The faint smile vanished from Lance’s lips, and he suddenly looked tired, leaning into Shiro’s shoulder as he let out a long breath.

“It’s starting to feel like I got hit by a truck.” He muttered grudgingly. “While I was moving it wasn’t so bad, but…”

“Now that everything’s wearing off it’s worse than you thought.” Shiro finished. “Before we decide anything when we get back, you’re going to want to get that arm looked at by Pidge. I don’t like how it keeps sparking.”

“Yeah.” Lance said quietly. “Pidge said I’m probably going to lose my arm.”

Ah.

Shiro’s heart tightened in sympathy. It was one thing when it was out of your hands, but when that kind of information was suddenly thrust on you when you were back amongst friends, it was another matter.

“Hey.”

He nudged Lance’s shoulder, managing a small smile. “As someone who’s been there, it’s not all terrible.”

Lance gave him A Look. It was the look of complete and utter deadpan disbelief, honed to perfection from the years of being a middle child.

“No, really.” Shiro defended. “I don’t even remember it. Besides, look at all the cool bling I got to go with it.”

“Did you seriously just use the word bling?”

“And if I did?”

“Dude, you’re like, the adult. Adults don’t say that.” Lance frowned, but he was definitely trying not to snort at the wounded, indignant look that Shiro directed back at him.

“I’m only a few years older than you!” he protested.

“You’re our Space Dad. You can never be young again.” Lance shot back, appropriately distracted for the moment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Pidge took one look at the sparking mess that was Lance’s arm and immediately called Hunk and Coran in. Hunk for the engineering skills, Coran for his medical skills.

(Despite his rather frequent misuse of Altean medicine on humans, he was actually a trained Medical Officer and knew what he was doing.)

Other than a mild concussion and a couple of bruised ribs, there wasn’t much that they were able to do for Lance, considering that his Galran shoulder joint and prosthetic arm were the main issues to be dealt with.

Coran, upon entering the room, paled at the sight of the blood on Lance’s armor and the way he was leaning against Shiro’s shoulder. The Black Paladin had basically had to support his weight all the way up to the medical bay simply due to exhaustion, and had continued to stay as a show of support. All they needed now were Allura and Keith and the entire team would be present. Something that they all knew would likely end in a complete disaster.

“Too many people.” Lance flinched into Shiro, burying his face into his shoulder as his wings flicked and began fluffing themselves up.

“Would you like me to leave?” Shiro asked immediately, answered by a short jerk of Lance’s head. “Pidge? Hunk? Coran?”

A distressed noise answered him as Lance shook his head again.

“I’ll hang back.” Hunk offered immediately. “I’m just here in case Pidge needs help.”

“I agree as well. Though I am familiar with medicine, I’m afraid that my knowledge is still lacking in you humans.” Coran chimed. “If you need me I’ll be back here, Number Five.”

The smallest of the group growled something that may or may not have been actual language as she stared balefully at Coran. She’d never taken to the idea of being called by their height- the fact that Pidge was so tiny didn’t exactly help matters when it came to Coran’s gentle teasing.

“Alright.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up and pulling out her handheld scanner. “Lance, you have to take off the armor around your shoulder so I can get an accurate reading on your shoulder. Obviously we don’t have to worry about the armor on your prosthetic.”

Lance trembled, but moved to look at Pidge and nod. His lips were pressed together to form a thin line, despite his wings bristling with tension. The idea was definitely not something that he wanted to go along with, but given the available options, he was going to suck it up.

This close, however, their minds all brushed up against the other, exchanging small glimpses of one another’s thoughts. Lance’s were the primary thought- loud _fear anxietypanicpanic_ resounding strongly in the other paladins minds. A flash of a mirror and the briefest glimpse of scarred flesh.

Pidge and Hunk stiffened, staring at Shiro and glancing at Lance. Shiro had been present when Coran and Allura had been taking care of Lance the best they could following his rescue from the Galran arena. He knew the extent of his scarring, and everything else that had been done to his skin.

“It’s nothing. Really. Just… trying to brace myself for the worst.” Lance said faintly, noticing their looks and realizing what trail of thought he had been following. “Pidge, Coran- I want you to do what you have to do.”

“Lance, are you sure-“ Pidge began, only to be cut off by a shake of Lance’s head.

“I’m sure. I trust you.”

“Okay.”

She silently communicated with Shiro, quirking a brow and looking to the damaged breastplate that was currently on Lance before moving forward to help, wings flicking back and forth. Shiro’s were carefully tucked back and were tight in position. If she had to guess she would say that he was trying to lesson Lance’s anxiety about larger wings.

They managed to extract Lance from the breastplate somehow, though it certainly involved several curses and a broken whine of pain that made Pidge feel like an absolute monster for having to pry him out of it.

By now, it was clear that the shoulder joint was pretty much non-existent. Whatever the collision had done to Lance, it almost seemed like the pressure had half crushed the foreign material. Frankly, it seemed like it should be impossible to be conscious, let alone as unbothered as their flock mate was.

There was nothing that she would be able to do for it now. With the original injury, followed by the replacement limbs, followed by this newest strain on the material, their options were extremely limited. Pidge would have to figure out a way to remove the Galran arm entirely and then somehow figure out a way to amputate up to the shoulder- all things that she immediately felt nauseous thinking about.

“Pidge, breathe.”

She sucked in a breath, hating how accepting Lance looked. How tired and world-worn he was.

“Coran, is there a way that I could fabricate a replacement joint for his shoulder?” she asked, pushing aside her current emotions in order to focus on the necessary tasks. “Do we have those kinds of materials on board?”

Coran moved over, ensuring that Lance could see him coming and keeping his two pairs of warm, dark wings folded behind him. Taking Pidge’s scanner, he ran it around the area, humming something under his breath to himself for a long moment before nodding.

“I believe we still have some of the stock used to make replacement prosthetics around.” He said, handing back the small machine. “I will return shortly.”

“Alright, that’s one thing down.” Pidge sighed, turning to Hunk. “Hunk, do you think you could get Lance something to eat? I know it’s not why I asked you to come, but he looks like he’s about to pass out and if we’re going to keep poking him I want him conscious for it. Shiro, you keep doing whatever you’re doing.”

They all stared at her for a moment in startlement before she growled.

_“NOW!”_

 

* * *

 

 

At this point, Keith and Hunk were regretting ever betting against Pidge. Their youngest flock member seemed both exasperated and smug about the fact that Lance and Shiro seemed completely oblivious to their obvious compatibility. However, considering that the pair had been hardly together alone since that one day that Lance had gone for the maiden voyage on his new wing, exasperation was currently winning.

She huffed, adjusting the lighting so that she could get a better look at the parts of machinery that she was working on, glancing back at the schematics that she had pulled up on her computer. It was a thorough image of the design of Lance’s current prosthetic, overlaid with her additional parts that they would likely need to replace as well as the shoulder joint designs. Past Shiro’s own prosthetic, which was attached just above the elbow.

She sighed, realizing that thinking about Lance was causing her fingers to tremble, and put down her tools in order to press her palms against her face.

It wasn’t fair that Shiro and now Lance had to go through all of this shit. The look of shaky acceptance that Lance had been wearing when she broke the news to him had been absolutely heartbreaking. It was like he knew it was coming, the other shoe coming firmly down on him. He’d just gotten the ability to fly back, and in return it seemed as though he had to sacrifice something else.

Her wings bristled.

How much more were they going to have to give up for the greater good of the universe? To keep sacrificing until there was nothing left of them? Pidge knew that her own mother likely wouldn’t recognize her now. Hunk had a mother and an older brother at home. Shiro had been on his own for a few years- he’d lost his parents in a car accident. Keith didn’t have anyone other than Shiro- the older of the pair had taken him out of foster care when he’d been accepted to the Garrison. But Lance… Lance was on the older side of the middle children in his family. He had parents, siblings, people who probably were missing him every day that he was gone.

What did they get from all of this?

Not for the first time, Pidge wished that she had a curse strong enough to express herself. Quiznak was a great alien equivalent to ‘fuck’, but it just wasn’t the same, she had come to realize over the last several months in space.

No.

She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her face as she continued to work.

Lance was resting- she and Hunk had wrangled together enough materials to weld his prosthetic arm back together, and Coran had found a replacement shoulder joint by some miracle of the universe. It was even the correct size, and wasn’t made of whatever space junk that Zarkon’s druids had stuck into him. Coran and Shiro had gone with Lance to put him under and get the damaged joint replaced.

Hunk was currently stress cooking again- he’d been in her workshop earlier but had retreated when Pidge had gotten to work on sketching up a new concept for Lance’s prosthetic. Obviously she wasn’t suited to the fine mechanics- those details would fall to Coran and Hunk when she figured everything out- but she wanted to create something for Lance that was _his_. Not Zarkon’s, not Voltron’s. His.

Her wings flicked as she tilted her head, noticing a small flaw in her sketch, and reached out to correct it before going back to her little tinkering project.

Lance was flock, and like hell Pidge would ever abandon one of her flock when they needed her most.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me that there is quite the lack of Hunk in this series so far. Thus, I decided to rectify the situation.

_The sand was warm beneath him, the gulls high above him looping with a couple of his smaller cousins as they gleefully chased the smaller birds. The waves along the shore were a soothing noise to calm his oddly loud thoughts, ebbing and flowing in tune with his steady breath and heartbeat._

_Why was he thinking so hard, anyway?_

_He stretched out his wings as he reclined to lay on his back, relishing in the sensation of the heated sand working its way through his feathers. Sure, it might be a bit of a nightmare later to preen it all out, but_ damn _it felt nice while it lasted._

_“Lance!”_

_His breath leaves him in a whoosh as one of the younger cousins drops on him from above, knocking all oxygen out of his lungs in one fell swoop and causing him to groan weakly as he struggles to shove the small hellion from his chest._

_As he looks, however, the beaming face of his cousin warps to that of someone far different._

_His breath catches in his throat as he stares into the leering face of Haggar._

_“Pitiful.” She scoffs, straddling him, clawed hands digging into him as she leans into his face. “You think you will be free from me? You are_ mine _, paladin.”_

_She presses her palm against his chest where the Galran brand sits heavily, a permanent reminder of her._

_“You can run all you like.” She bares her teeth in a savage smile. “I’ll be waiting.”_

He jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his mind blindly working in pure overdrive. His instincts were telling him to run, to flee, to find somewhere safe so that he could hide and keep away-

“Shit! Lance!”

A warm presence brushed against his mind- distantly, he recognized it, but breathing was more his focus at the moment. Panic choked him, the distinct, overpowering sensation of not being able to breathe taking over his rational mind.

He thought he heard someone talking to him, but he couldn’t be certain. He was too focused on trying to suck in oxygen that suddenly was unavailable to him, his wings beating themselves frantically to try and get some kind of opening-

“Lance, _breathe!_ ”

Hunk.

Hunk was talking to him, his large hands gentle as he cradled Lance’s cheeks in them, his dark eyes soft with concern. His massive earthy wings were spread in a protective wall around the pair of them, and for a brief moment, all he could sense was the unending affection and love that ebbed and flowed between their mental link.

“I can’t- Hunk- I- breathe-“ he heaved, still barely inhaling as much as he should be. Logically, in the back of his mind, he recognized that it was all in his head- and wasn’t that ironic, considering everything he had been through- but it made it no less real when his episodes occurred.

“Shhh.” Hunk cooed, a low thrum in his throat following the small sound, and he carefully wrapped his large arms around him, pulling Lance into his chest where, despite his tension, he relaxed. Hunk was at his core a caretaker- if he wasn’t making sure that they all ate or made sure that their health was at its peak he worried himself into an early molt and spiralled downward quickly. He felt the thick sensation of tears at the edges of his eyes.

How had he forgotten Hunk? Warm, affectionate Hunk, who in the Garrison had been right next to him for everything that they had been through. Who had comforted him through his anxiety attacks and stress-molts and hadn’t even asked why he wouldn’t open up to him.

“Hey, hey. No tears.”

“I’m sorry.” Lance managed thickly.

“Why are you sorry?”

The tone was so soft, so much like his mama’s, that he could only shake his head and bury his face into the crook of Hunk’s neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent that was all he really had of home. Hot tears managed to escape his eyes, the salt stinging his cheeks and catching on his eyelashes.

“Just- all this time, and it’s like I completely forgot about you. You’ve always been there for me.” He finally managed to say after several long minutes. “You’re my best friend, and I haven’t even said anything to you since-“

“Hey. None of that, Lance.” There was stern Hunk now. He pulled away from him, his brows furrowed as he searched Lance’s face for some unknown expression, a clue. “I don’t blame you for any of this. You’re allowed to have your space and do your thing, okay? I’m not going to push you. We all realize that this is really hard on you.”

If that didn’t get the waterworks going, nothing would.

He felt his shoulders shake first, his whole body following shortly after, wings drooping and his body releasing whatever tension that was left in it.

And Hunk bore it all with an easy grace, his hands gently rubbing circles on his shoulder, carding through his hair and even reaching back to begin preening the feathers of his Galran wing. Too exhausted to muster up a defence, Lance simply granted Hunk a weak nod of confirmation at his query of preening, leaning into his chest as the larger man reached around him to get to work. His eyes drifted closed at the gentle sensations, the motions similar to that of his mama’s, and drifted off to sleep to the sound of Hunk humming a tuneless melody.

 

* * *

 

 

“Shiro, I know you’re in there.”

He winced before realizing that there was no point in attempting to hide from Keith. Or Pidge, but she rarely announced herself when she entered.

Black’s amused rumble surrounded him as he uncoiled himself from the pilot’s seat, looking at the screen that his lion had brought up of a disgruntled looking Keith, his dark wings stiff as he crossed his arms.

“You can’t sulk in there forever. It’s been three days.” He added, brows furrowing. “Is this because of Lance? The implant went fine- his shoulder’s doing better. He had an episode this morning.”

Shiro sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose even as Black offered her input- several blurred images flashed behind his eyes in quick succession.

_Lance flying next to him._

_Keith smiling as they sparred._

_Hunk offering him a hug after one of his bad nights._

_Pidge giving him one of her small smiles._

_Allura and Coran working over some kind of map._

“Shiro?”

“You may as well let him in.” he informed Black dryly. “He’ll find a way in one way or another in the end.”

Black’s mental disdainful huff suggested otherwise, but she opened her maw for the Red Paladin regardless.

He’d been having another one of his episodes- not to steal the word that Keith had only just used a moment before. It had started right about when he’d found Lance on that planet, and had only gone downhill from there.

He couldn’t help but feel useless as the head of Voltron when he couldn’t even keep his team safe. And Lance was only a child- never mind that Shiro was only a few years older than the rest of the team. He never wanted to see the burden he’d had to bear put on another’s shoulders.

And yet, here they were.

At seeing the state he was in- dark bags under his eyes, disheveled hair and sagging wings- Keith merely sighed, moving to his side and then in front of him, dark eyes searching his features as his wings relaxed fractionally. Admittedly, he wasn’t great at the idea of comforting others, but he always managed to pull through.

“Lance is okay, Shiro.” He said softly.

“He’s not, though.” He replied hollowly.

“No, he’s not.” Keith agreed. “But he’s doing okay. He’s still here.”

“He might lose his arm.”

“He already lost it.” Keith countered. “And Pidge and Coran replaced the damaged shoulder joint in time. He went in a pod for a couple hours and it fixed most of the damage.”

Shiro’s brows furrowed. Keith’s statement hadn’t made any sense to his exhausted mind.

“Shiro, Lance lost his arm already. The only thing left is whatever the Galra did to him afterwards.” He continued gently, firmly placing a hand on his leg to ground him. “None of this was your fault.”

But it was- if he’d been a better leader, somehow managed to head Lance off and get Pidge out of there-

“Don’t pull the self-sacrificing thoughts card out.”

A sharp pinch as Keith applied pressure with his nails.

“I know what you’re thinking. Believe me, I have to put up with it from Pidge too. And Allura, and Coran, and Hunk. All of us blame ourselves for what happened. But we can’t let it hold us back or Lance is never going to heal.” He said shortly. “Yeah, we can’t go back to the way things were. But we’re never going to find out what could happen if we keep pretending that nothing’s happened.”

“When did you get so mature?” Shiro finally said, blinking as the words processed.

Keith snorted, flicking his wings as he stood.

“Who knows. Hopefully it’s not contagious.”

The statement, strangely enough, caused a dramatic shudder to run through Shiro’s wings, thoughts of Pidge of all their flock running through his mind.

It was one thing to deal with an immature Pidge. It would be another thing entirely to deal with a mature minded Pidge who wanted nothing more than to screw with you in any possible way that she could find.

“Pidge?” Keith quirked a brow, offering him a hand up.

He nodded.

“Pidge.”

 

* * *

 

 

Coran hummed softly to himself as he rummaged around in the open panel in the ceiling, his wings trailing down behind him to the floor as he stretched himself out to reach the replacement wire that had shifted just out of reach.

His thoughts were focused on the paladins- they often were, these days. Not for lack of trying, really. It was simply the way things were. With only their group on board the Castle of Lions, company tended to be rather lacking.

“Aha!” he crowed triumphantly, both sets of his wings perking as he grasped the wire, wrangling it into the organized chaos that he had created when he had begun pulling the pieces apart in order to fix them. In order to get at the panel itself, however, he’d had to find a ladder and partially climb into the vent that ran along the ceiling. It was a tight fit with four wings and his strangely broad shoulders, but Coran was nothing if not persistent when it came to repairing the castle.

He and Allura had been keeping their distance from the main flock- mainly due to the stress that their presence may cause Lance. Since returning from the Galra, he had definitely changed in ways that Coran could see himself in. Grief, rage, an exhaustion that settled to the bone. The spark that made up Lance was damaged.

He grunted at the thought, momentarily distracted by his task as he rewired the panel with quick, efficient movements, hands nimbly moving pieces to their correct places and reattaching them with his hand-held soldering tool.

But, he mused, damaged objects could be repaired, with the correct amount of time and methods. And the flock that comprised Voltron was close- close enough that their minds had linked together. It was something that other paladins of the past had been known to achieve with work and trust, and it seemed that these new paladins were full of surprises. Achieving a mental bond of any kind was difficult enough- managing to do so after only several earth months was unprecedented. Lance was in good hands and wings and minds.

Of course, getting a particular Black Paladin to realize such a thing was beginning to become obviously more arduous than initially assumed, considering Shiro’s tendency to place blame onto his own shoulders instead of blaming the circumstances. It was an admirable trait, sometimes. Just not in regards to this event. No one was to blame- though even Coran would admit that he was having trouble admitting that to himself.

“Er, Coran?”

He squawked, losing his balance and rather ungracefully toppling from his perch in a mess of feathers and embarrassment to the floor. Thankfully he hadn’t been too high up, and happened to have the advantage of being slightly more durable than the average species.

Hunk and Lance peered down at him, Lance’s dark rimmed eyes concerned as Hunk immediately flew into his mother-hen mode, pulling Coran up and looking him over thoroughly to ensure that he hadn’t sustained any permanent damage. The larger male’s wings were fluffed up in worry and agitation, while Lance kept his at a neutral tilt, the larger Galran wing tucked marginally higher so that the recovering feathers didn’t drag on the ground.

“Sorry.” Lance apologized, offering a faint smile of apology, his cheeks flushing as Coran bounced back to his feet, shaking out his wings and quickly adjusting a couple that had gotten moved out of place. “We actually came to find you because Pidge thinks she found another team setting in the training deck but she doesn’t want to admit that she can’t crack the coding that it has.”

“So we decided to get you so you can translate it and tell us what program it is?” Hunk added, looking hopeful at the prospect of a new training exercise. He couldn’t help it- new training techniques designed by other avian-like species was fascinating. Even more so when it regarded the multi-winged Alteans.

“Give me two ticks and I’ll be right along, boys.” Coran chirruped brightly, twitching his wings. “I just have to put the panel back to rights and I’ll toddle along.”

“Alright!” Hunk beamed, turning to fist-bump a quietly amused Lance. “Thanks, Coran!”

“Any time, lads!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this is a glacial slow burn Shance. I apologize. 
> 
> But ayyy, an update!

“Is this entirely necessary?”

Pidge scowled, pulling at the decorative uniform that Allura had managed- with great difficulty- to wrangle her into not too long ago. It wasn’t that it wasn’t suitable for a paladin of Voltron- far from it, actually- and that was likely what, in part, had the smallest of their number up at arms.

Their first mission since Lance had been taken went surprisingly well, all things considered. Lance had been quiet and a little too focused on whatever was in front of his lion, but they had managed to form Voltron with little issue and wreak havoc on the Galran warships that were holding planet Betr’a’I (which was basically impossible for any human to say, as they soon found out) under their iron grip.

Which had led to a celebration in their honor.

Of course, Coran had managed to color-match every last one of them. Pidge, stone-faced, ruthless Pidge, had made her opinion firmly known on the idea of skirts. When Shiro had made an offhand comment about seeing her wear them back on earth, the small female had flared her wings and made a noise that had caused Hunk to wisely retreat from the immediate vicinity, taking a rather clueless Keith with him to avoid the blast radius.

Needless to say, Pidge won that argument handily.

She was clad in a soft, silky moss green tunic that overlapped a long sleeved white undersuit, the tights reaching to her ankles. Faint patterns were woven into the edges of the fabric, and she had a thin belt at her hips, to which her bayard was affixed. Her feet she had definitely waged war over, refusing to put on the “death traps” that were the Altean equivalent of heels, instead opting for a pair of matching green boots that were lightly armored in case someone managed to step on her.

Considering that the occupants of this planet were, at their shortest, about Shiro’s height, had hunched shoulders and armoring like an armadillo, and looked like they weighed the same as a car, it wasn’t a far off threat. Her wings had been preened to silky soft perfection, and they flicked back and forth as she eyed up the surrounding aliens, looking entirely uncomfortable with the situation.

“Yes, Pidge.” Allura sighed, resisting the urge to rub her temples. “This is a diplomatic meeting as well as a celebration. Therefore, I expect you, and the rest of you, to remain on your best behavior.”

“Simple enough.” Pidge heard Lance mutter behind her. “Just avoid the ten-foot tall aliens who look like they could step on you and barely notice.”

Lance had been wrangled into a sleeker version of what was basically their paladin armor, the main difference being that it was a full black undersuit with only a handful of light blue and white accents. And while he had seemed reasonably agreeable to meeting with the people of this planet, his wings were garnering quite a bit of attention. His prosthetic was covered by a thin armored glove, so thankfully there was little to worry about on that front, but his discomfort with the stares was beginning to show.

Pidge resolved to stick to him like glue. Judging by Hunk’s expression, the larger man was thinking along the same lines.

Allura sighed again, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

“I know this is not ideal.” She said, much more quietly. “But this is a part of what the paladins are. We must take our roles as defenders of the universe seriously.”

They all nodded, albeit reluctantly. Shiro, dressed in a similar charcoal and black ensemble to Lance, straightened and adjusted his wings, offering an arm to Allura, once again admiring the dark purple fabric that was nearly black and shimmered with all the colors of the galaxy. Her long, iridescent white wings were held at an elegant angle, one pair neatly overlaying the other in a way that spoke volumes of how the Altean had been raised.

Keith and Hunk too, had been masterfully included in the matching uniforms, Hunk somehow and rather unfairly managing to rock the black and yellow color scheme without looking like a bumblebee. Then again, Coran was a miracle worker when it came to color-coding, so perhaps it shouldn’t have been so astonishing.

Speaking of Coran, the advisor had elected to remain behind in the castle to perform mandatory repairs. Ever the chipper one, he had been the fairy godmother to them all, making sure they were all clothed appropriately and ensuring that they knew to be back before the suns of the planet rose again.

_Lucky bastard_ , Pidge thought enviously, crossing her arms over her chest and resisting the urge to hiss and bare her teeth at the nearest native. Instead, she fluffed up her wings and sought out Hunk and Lance, planting herself firmly next to the blue paladin. He could sense her irritation with the situation, just as she could sense his unease with the number of larger, predator-like aliens surrounding them. His bayard was clipped to his hip, and his fingers twitched subconsciously toward it every time someone made an unexpected movement.

_Oh yes_ , Pidge thought. This was going to be a _long_ night.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance hadn’t been able to take a moment and step away from the situation he’d found himself in all night, and the tension lining his shoulders was beginning to become very obvious. His wings were nearly at the same level of continued agitation as Keith’s, but the Betr’ didn’t seem to notice. Not that he could really blame them- they were completely different species with different cultural norms and expectations.

However, if he didn’t get out of the room soon, he was going to go insane.

_Air. He needed air._

“Excuse me.” He said shortly, interrupting whatever the Betr’ around him were saying. “I need a moment.”

Before anyone could say anything, he was already moving, weaving between the large, hulking forms of their species and trying to hold the broken pieces of himself together until he got somewhere safe.

And then something grabbed his Galra wing and everything rippled into the arena.

His hand grasped the blade that had been thrust into his hands, breath hitching in his throat as he backed away from the pair of Betr’ that had been forced into the arena with him. They looked as reluctant as he to fight, but Lance could already feel the phantom prickling along his fake wing, knew that Haggar was waiting for him to try something so she could cause everything to explode into fire and pain.

The noise from the crowd was dulled for once- strange, considering that Haggar usually did her best to find the best of audiences, but Lance refused to dwell on that.

_“Back up!”_

Lance flared his wings warningly as the pair of Betr’ moved forward, the blade in his hands coming up defensively. That voice didn’t sound like Haggar’s- it almost sounded like Shiro. But that was impossible- Shiro was on the Castle of Lions and far, far away from him.

_“Lance, put the gun down.”_

He didn’t have a gun. Haggar had warned the guards to keep all long range weapons away from him, and his bayard had been lost during his capture. He shook his head, struggling to breathe. Why did everything seem so blurred around the edges?

He backed up, dropping the sword to instead clutch at his hair. Why was everything moving so much?

“Not here. They’re not here.” He whispered to himself, wings tightening against his back.

The Betr’ in front of him had disappeared, their bodies bleeding a sour violet. He’d killed them- he remembered the phantom movements of his limbs as he’d done it.

_“Lance, are you with me?”_

No, no, Shiro wasn’t there. He couldn’t be there because that would mean that Haggar had gotten him too-

_“Lance.”_

He sobbed, falling to his knees, fingers tightening their grip against his scalp. Everything was too loud, too bright. The arena shimmered and vanished, revealing Shiro and Hunk in front of him, Keith, Pidge and Allura behind them. There were no sign of the Betr’, save for a single figure next to Allura.

“Lance.” Shiro tried again, seeing the flicker of recognition in blue eyes. “Do you know where you are?”

“Arena- no. Somewhere. Party?” he replied faintly, his fingers retaining their grip on his head. Shiro noted how the metal prosthetic had drawn blood- small drips were beginning to trail down the side of Lance’s face.

“Good. Can you let go of your head? You’re starting to bleed.” Shiro continued, crouching, making no move to initiate contact yet. His wings were spread out to create a wall of protection around he, Hunk and Lance.

“Can’t.”

He shook his head, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

Not for the first time, Shiro wanted to pull Lance into his arms and shelter him there for the rest of their lives. He’d gone through way too much to deserve anything but warmth, safety and happiness permanently.

“May I help you?”

There was a pause- no sound other than the concerned murmurs from the other room from the Betr’ and the labored breath that Lance stubbornly kept sucking in.

“ _Please_.”

“Okay. It’s okay. We’ve got you. We’ve got you.” Hunk soothed, spreading his earthy wings out to replace Shiro’s as the elder moved forward, slowly, methodically. His hands gently touched Lance’s own, wrapping around them and simply holding them for several long minutes. His thumbs rubbed light circles on the backs as they sat there, Lance slowly coming back from wherever he had drifted to. Shiro suspected that it had been the arena, considering that he’d immediately gone for his bayard.

It was a while still before Lance managed to ground himself enough to let go of his hair and scalp, his hands curled limply in Shiro’s as he brought them down for him. A low coo thrummed through the elder’s chest, to which Lance replied with a weak chirrup. His wings drooped against the ground as whatever energy Lance had left drained out of him and he fell against Shiro’s chest. Hunk squeaked in the back of his throat in concern, but Shiro shook his head as he carefully maneuvered Lance into a bridal hold.

“I’m taking him back to the castle.”

“I’m going with you.” Pidge said immediately, flaring her wings aggressively when Shiro attempted to give her _The Look_. It was the disapproving look he usually tried to use on their youngest flock member, usually to mixed results. Often to a resounding failure, but they liked to pretend Shiro had a chance.

Rather than arguing the point- as they all knew Shiro would have if it were any other situation- he simply sighed and nodded once before standing and adjusting Lance’s form, making sure that his wings were folded enough that he wouldn’t be tripped up by the long feathers, and made his way out the door. Pidge followed like a small, fluffy shadow, her wings held tense behind her.

Allura flew into quiet conversation with the Lord of the Betr’ after that, while Keith and Hunk remained as emotional support to the princess until she finally sighed and sent them off. The Betr’ were hardly interested in any alliances with the Galra, and would have already have taken the opportunity to sell them out if they were.

Hunk and Keith both, somewhere in the back of their minds, wanted to stay with Allura. However, Lance’s state of health was currently the priority of their inner circle of flock. Allura understood it as well- likely why she had sent them off instead of trying to keep them for any longer.

Keith was silent as they all but threw themselves into the air, wings beating heavily as they gained enough altitude to fly up to the Castle of Lions. Keith, being the smaller and faster of the two, arrived first, Hunk not far behind.

“What if he’s not okay?”

Keith paused at Hunk’s words, hating how small the other male sounded. It wasn’t right, hearing that tone from Hunk. He was the warm, paternal presence of their flock. Hunk was the one who made sure they were all fed and well rested after training, who made sure that everyone took care of themselves. Lance, by contrast, was the one who lightened their hearts during the darker days of being a paladin of Voltron. He was the one who emotionally supported everyone, who grounded them and teamed up with Hunk on the really bad days to make sure that they all managed to get their down time in.

“I don’t know.” He finally replied, wings drooping. “Lance isn’t the same as he used to be.”

“It’s just- some days it almost seems like he’s himself again, you know? And then something like this happens and I want to wrap him in a blanket and take him back to Earth where no one can ever touch him again.” Hunk said, shoulders drooping as a tired frown crossed his features. His large wings shifted downward slightly.

“Yeah.”

Keith could relate. There were days that he saw much of the same in Shiro. Some days, he was the same charismatic Shiro that he had always been. And others he was someone Keith barely recognized. The Galra had done a number on Shiro as well as Lance- the difference was that one had been before their flock had been formed, and the other had been after their flock-bonds had been created.

“Either way, he’s flock. We have to be there for him.” Hunk nodded to himself, straightening and adjusting his wings.

“We’re always going to be here for him.” Keith said firmly, looking up at Hunk. “Even though it’s going to be hard.”

“We’re Paladins of Voltron. It’s always hard.” Hunk chuckled, offering Keith a warm smile and a gentle hand on the shoulder. “But I get it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance came to as they entered the castle, Shiro’s large wings draped out behind him in an effort to cool himself down from the flight back up to the ship. Pidge was near his shoulder, peering at him with a level of concern that Lance immediately didn’t like.

“Don’ frown.” He murmured, tiredly reaching over his head to try and touch her shoulder.

“You had us worried, idiot.” She replied immediately, Shiro glancing down with his own concerned look.

“Wha’ happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

Lance’s head lulled into Shiro’s chest as he made a negative noise in his throat.

“You _might_ have had a flashback.” Pidge said carefully.

If he were feeling any more coherent, Lance was pretty sure that those words would have had more of an effect on him. As it was, he simply made a tired thrum in his chest and sagged against Shiro again, unable to help himself as he inhaled the distinct feathers-and-metal scent that was their flock leader. Warmth and a flicker of flight together blended together in his mind to create a soothing image that lulled him once again into a state of dozing, Shiro’s footsteps a smooth rhythm.

Pidge’s smooth mental presence pushed gently at Lance’s own, Shiro a warm undertone as the sensation of love and worry and affection ran through him. Blue’s presence joined them, concern rumbling through him in her own particular way.

He protested weakly as Shiro finally knelt, pillows cushioning him as Pidge did an admirable effort in creating a pillow nest around him with the actual nest materials. Everything was still off somehow- like he’d slipped a tinted lens over his eyes and his surroundings had turned hazy.

“Why’m I so tire’?” he slurred as Pidge quickly slipped against his side, flicking her wings out over the pillows she’d arranged around them.

“Adrenaline. Or emotional distress. Mostly adrenaline.” She muttered, burrowing deeper into his side, resting a hand on his chest as she closed her eyes.

“Flashbacks take a lot out of you.” Shiro agreed quietly, moving to stand. “I should go-“

However, Lance’s hand caught his own, and a pair of drowsy blue eyes stared him down.

“Stay?” He asked, eyelids already closing. Pidge looked like she was already halfway asleep herself, the tunic rumpled around her waist and her bayard still clipped to her belt.

“C’mon, Shiro. You don’t have anywhere else to be.” Pidge coaxed, blinking one eye open to eye him up. “Don’t go.”

Shiro hesitated, but a soft sigh from Lance attracted his attention, and he couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed his lips at the sight. His worry for Lance was still in the front of his mind, but the image of him looking so content with Pidge touching him, cuddled against his side, was something that he could take in and feel only contentedness. Lance, despite everything he was going through, was slowly letting everyone back into his circle.

With a deep sigh, he carefully seated himself, lying down just shy of Lance, readjusting as his prosthetic caught under a discarded blanket before closing his eyes. The others would likely join them shortly, but Shiro couldn’t find it in himself to care. The present members of flock had decided to bed down for the night, and he would follow suit.

At least until a low chirrup came from Lance, and he rolled into Shiro, his forehead fitting between the crook of his shoulder and neck and an arm draping over his hip. A noise of contentment emitted from his throat before the younger male finally settled, his breath ghosting over Shiro’s collarbone.

“Relax, idiot.” Pidge said, not even bothering to crack an eyelid. “He doesn’t bite. Anymore. Besides, he’s a good cuddler.”

Some unidentifiable emotion settled in his chest as he allowed himself to relax into the contact, inhaling and finding that Lance had a gentle smell of something citrus-y underlying his stronger feather smell. It was pleasant, reminding him of the days he would spent drinking tea when it rained. It was a similar scent to the tea he used to drink.

Pidge smiled as she watched Shiro relax into Lance’s body. She knew the stubborn idiots wouldn’t even realize that they had obvious chemistry. Then again, they still didn’t know each other well enough to see it.

_But_ , she mused, pressing against Lance’s back and hearing the distant sounds of their flock approaching, _I think Shiro’s beginning to see something._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I know it's been a month, but this chapter refused to cooperate. I rewrote it four times before restarting it and even now it's not entirely the way I want it. But I felt terrible for not posting sooner, so here you go. 
> 
> Also I totally lied this is the angstiest chapter I've ever written in my life. I'm so sorry.

The unfortunate thing that the paladins always seemed to forget about were the other “duties” that they were informed that they were needed for. In this instance, it was in regards to the team training sessions that the princess was insistent that they continue to push through.

No big deal.

“Seriously.” Hunk panted as he all but collapsed onto the floor, wings dragging behind him as he tried to cool himself. “How the hell are we supposed to build up our endurance when space literally has no air for us to fly in?”

Pidge merely groaned from her claimed territory on the ground, leaning further into Keith, who, for once, seemed to be doing not much better. He was panting lightly, his lungs working overtime from the sparring match he’d just barely survived against the gladiator. (Allura had decided to set it at a much higher level than he was currently training against. Needless to say, it hadn’t ended well on either end.)

Lance had been dragged up to plate against Shiro as they moved into one on one matches. Shiro had been nominated for several reasons, most prominently being that he was best equipped to deal with another flashback should the Cuban happen to have one.

It was something that they had all had to adjust to, knowing that it wasn’t just Shiro who had to deal with the fallout of something the Galra did, now. It was a thought that was continually reinforced each day that they managed to get out of bed. That Lance wasn’t the same that he had been before they’d left Earth.

That wasn’t to say that nothing that the rest of their flock dealt with wasn’t any better or worse- Pidge suffered from reasonably severe insomnia and managed to land herself in the med bay several times thanks to it, Hunk stress baked and worried so much that he was beginning to molt- _again_ \- and Keith was…

Well, Keith was Keith. Prickly as a cactus, didn’t really like people getting into his space, that kind of stuff. But they had all figured out at this point that under that façade lay a protective flock-mate who would likely shred anything that dared harm one of their flock.

Including Haggar, but Pidge already had first dibs, and there were some things that not even Keith could sway to go his way. This was one of them.

Today, however, Lance looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Allura had been pushing him lately, realizing that while he was recovering from what the Galra did to him, they were still members of Voltron, and they were still obligated to free the universe. Honestly, Pidge had given up on trying to figure out half of the princess’ thought processes recently. All she knew was that if this put Lance in a worse mentality than he was now, she would be out for blood. And she was pretty sure she would have Hunk and Keith at her back for it.

“Hey. You’re going to do fine.” Shiro soothed as Lance fidgeted uncomfortably, looking like he wanted nothing more than to turn tail and flee. Honestly, Shiro could relate. Team training, while useful, often made him feel more open and on display than he liked. It made him feel like he was something to be examined. Of course, he knew, logically, that none of their flock actually felt like that, but it was one of those things that his subconscious enjoyed tripping him up with every once in a while.

“Yeah.” Lance nodded, movements uncertain as he forced his body to relax. It started with the shoulders, down through his arms. Shiro made note of the stiffness of the new Altean shoulder that Lance had been given- still new, still getting used to the sensation of no pain. The younger had pulled him aside to tell him as much, earlier, his thoughts projecting uncertainty and anxiety that Shiro had done his best to quell. “Yeah. Just have to make it through this.”

They fell into their rhythm quickly after that, Lance’s wings pinned to his back as they started slowly, half-hearted jabs and kicks to test the other. Most of it was for Lance’s benefit, to ease him into the quicker movements. But, soon enough, they were shifting back and forth, Shiro noticing that Lance had improved a lot since the first time that they had sparred.

He also noticed the furrow between his brows as he ducked under one of Shiro’s kicks, catching his leg on the way back down and twisting, flipping him sideways. If it weren’t for his quick reflexes, he would have been face-down on the floor, but as it was, he caught himself on his arms.

He noticed the scars that lined his jaw and cheeks as he lunged, trying to pin the younger- carefully- to the floor. He noticed the small creases at the edges of his eyes when Lance jerked upward, head-butting Shiro and managing to get out of reach.

Shiro ignored the snort of amusement from Pidge as he shook off the momentary dizziness.

The rest of their match continued in such a manner until Pidge called time so that they could all take a break. Allura made a brief appearance with Coran as they distributed the water packs and Coran’s space goo- which Hunk sighed at in resignation before beginning to eat.

That done, the part that Lance had been dreading most about their day came. Because their dynamic had been so thrown off while Lance had been a prisoner, Allura had suggested- in that passive _this-is-not-a-suggestion_ voice- that they use the head-sets that they had used way back when they were trying to form Voltron in order to re-strengthen their bond.

Uneasy, Lance seated himself in the circle that they automatically formed, just out of reach between Pidge and Keith. Shiro was directly across from him, somehow.

Ignoring the bubble of anxiety in his chest, Lance inhaled and pulled on the contraption, immediately plunged into a myriad of color and emotions and thoughts not his own. None of them were strong enough to actually project into the center of the circle, he thought. Instead, he inhaled deeply and tried to focus.

“Alright. Instead of trying to form Voltron, we’re going to talk today.” Shiro’s voice said quietly, his mental presence brushing against theirs reassuringly. “Anything you guys want to share.”

Pidge was first- she was chewing her lip as she offered up an image of her brother and father, a strange sense of loss attached to her father.

_Grief loss gone not coming back-_

Keith, hesitant, joining them.

_Missing Shiro as he climbed onto the roof of the shack and stared at the stars above them, leaning his chin on his knees. Wishing that his only friend was there to offer comfort with his big wings._

_Wondering if his father was still somewhere out there._

Hunk joined them, his mental presence warm and tinged in amber.

_His mothers both laughed at him through the computer screen as he made a face at the mentions of homework, laugh lines prominent on their features._

_“We’ll see you soon. Break is only in a couple of months.” Mom said, her dappled grey wings drifting into the frame._

_“And we’ll be sure to make you your favourite food!” Mama chimed in, her dark brown wings perking at the words. “We know you can do it, darling.”_

_“Thanks, mom. Mama.” He swallowed thickly. “I’ve got to get going. I love you.”_

_“Oh, honey, we love you too. And you’ll see, you’ll be home before you know it.”_

It was the last time he’d spoken to his mothers before they had been catapulted into space and thrust into the positions of paladins.

Gentle sympathy rippled throughout all of them.

Lance knew the feeling of missing a parent. Before he could stop himself, the memory was already flowing through their bond, his heart aching.

_“Te quiero, mama.”_

_His mama smiled, carding her fingers through his hair as he tucked himself closer into her side, shifting a long wing to drape around him like a blanket._

_“Yo también te quiero, mijo.” She hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead._

He missed her. Wished that he could simply be wrapped in her warm arms and protected from the world with her big wings that were always so soft against his skin.

Gentle against his skin.

Unlike-

_His armor is charred and half-melted. Haggar seems to enjoy seeing how long it would take, how much pressure she needs to apply with her lightning-but-not power to get it to slowly warp and melt against his skin underneath-_

_“Little Paladin, your friends aren’t going to come rescue you.” Haggar coos, the sound crawling up his spine-_

_Her claws, sinking into his chest for the first time of many, and oh god oh god he can’t breathe-_

_Haggar laughs throatily. “Worry not, I have little intention of sending you in your current condition to face my pet. No, you are not ready, yet.”_

_Her hand crackles to life with the strange dark violet lightning as she crouches, a savage grin on her features as she seems to loom in front of him._

_“But you will be.”_

_She sinks her claws into him, and Lance_ screams _-_

He couldn’t breathe. His heart seemed frozen in his chest as he struggled to pull himself out of the loop, but he couldn’t. He thought he could feel the others as their mental presences clamored around him, but Lance could not move. He could only watch as each and every horror played out in detail for the others to witness.

_“You creatures are truly fascinating.” She commented, honing in on the fresh break in the joint. “I recall your Black Paladin being much the same. So…_ _focused_ _… on these appendages.”_

_He screams as she pins him down, her druids sinking their claws into him as Haggar looms over him with the shadow of a wing, a feral grin on her lips. She enjoys this, seeing him undone and at his worst. And then she begins her gruesome task, and his vision whites out._

“No.”

_“Hm. I expected more from a paladin of Voltron.” Haggar muses as she examines him. “How pitiful.”_

_“You still believe that they’ll come for you? How sweet.”_

_“They aren’t coming for you, Paladin.” She coos. “They’ve cut out their weakness with you. But do not fret, I still have plans for you. You’ll serve me much more effectively as my Champion.”_

_Useless useless weak holding them back not coming all alone who is he anymore-_

“ _ENOUGH!_ ”

He threw the small band bodily away from him, his chest heaving as tremors rocked through him. The piece of tech shattered as it collided with the wall, but silence reigned throughout the deck.

Horror, sympathy and pity all work their way across their faces, rippling throughout their mental bond to match.

“Lance, what the hell was that?”

Keith was pale, his wings trembling behind him.

“What do you think that was?” Lance whirled on him, teeth nearly bared.

Pidge looked shaken, and Hunk didn’t look much better. Some part of him was impressed that he hadn’t lost everything he’d eaten.

“Hey. Let’s all try to stay calm-“ Shiro tried, and something in Lance snapped.

“Stay calm? And _what_ , pretend that none of that happened? Because it _did_ , Shiro! For so goddamn long, I’ve been trying to pretend that it’s okay, that everything is okay and I’m not such a huge fuck-up, but apparently I can’t even make it one day without having a fucking breakdown! That bitch used me as a chew-toy because of my mistakes! In the end, this is all my fault! If I’d never left, my mother would still be alive and I wouldn’t be like _this!”_

He couldn’t find it in him to care. He was tired of being treated like he was made of glass, he was tired of them pushing him to try and act like his old self. He didn’t know what he wanted, and even as he stood there, Lance could feel himself cracking along the places he’d barely been keeping together.

“I never wanted this- any of this!” he continued, gesturing at the castle, gesturing to himself. “I don’t even know why I tried- I can never do anything right- I’m holding you back because I’m nothing! I have nothing left to give and I can’t hold myself together anymore!”

They were still silent, their thoughts too loud for him to process. Nothing made sense, and Lance shook his head as he stepped back.

“That’s what I thought.”

He turned and ran.

He was poured to the brim with fire and simmering rage that bubbled beneath his skin, forged into shards of glass that bristled at the world around him as he fled, retreating through the thick maze of halls and turns until he couldn’t hear anything but his heartbeat and his hitched breathing as hot, heavy tears welled at the corners of his eyes. Reality blurred into patches of Galran halls and the dusty sand of the arena as he pushed himself deeper into the ship. Eventually, even Blue’s soothing mental voice had disappeared, leaving him completely alone.

Lance wandered aimlessly, his thoughts in turmoil until he whirled and drove his prosthetic fist into the wall. The snap from something in the fingers did nothing, save fuel his already brittle self-control. Desperation surged through his limbs, and he attacked the wall, driving his fists home in some faint hope that it would make him feel something- anything- other than the emptiness that echoed in his chest.

A haze settled over his vision as, eventually, exhaustion inevitably kicked in. Miserably, Lance let out a choked sob, leaning against the wall and sliding down, drawing his knees against his chest as he finally allowed himself to unleash every inch of frustration and grief that he had been keeping at bay.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, crumpled in on himself and feeling emptier than he could ever remember. The world had, for a while, turned into faint flickers of lights and flashes of sentries, only a vague sense of where he was, but even that had passed. His hands ached, and he knew, distantly, that he had scraped his knuckles raw, possibly even broken one. His prosthetic wasn’t much better- Lance could feel the short bursts of something sparking. He couldn’t bring himself to care any longer.

His wings were cramped- at one point he must have turned on himself, because there were an alarming amount of pitch black feathers scattered around him, crimson staining their tips.

He was lightheaded. Couldn’t think straight.

Lance knew he was in pain. Mentally, emotionally, he had finally shattered like glass under the pressure exerted over him, leaving little but the shards behind. It certainly felt like it.

He was fairly sure he’d dozed into a fitful rest for some period of time, though judging time was difficult when there were no windows and no suns to guide him through the concept. He did know, however, that he was likely dehydrated and had no strength left to get to his feet. His hands and wrists ached, and to be quite honest, he didn’t want to know what he’d done in his manic frenzy to his wings.

He must have dozed off again, because the next thing he knew Hunk’s worried face was hovering in front of him, Pidge’s slim fingers slipping against his neck and checking his pulse.

“Shit, it’s thready.” She muttered after several long moments, turning her attention to his hands. “And after what he’s done to himself I can understand why.”

“Lance?” Hunk thrummed deeply in his throat, a worried noise that had a faint chirrup echoing from Lance’s. “Hey, buddy, you with us?”

He shrugged- at the very least made the attempt to, and hissed in pain as something in his shoulder protested.

“Hey hey, none of that.” Pidge scolded, her soft wings brushing against his skin pleasantly. “You’re in pretty bad shape. Can Hunk carry you to your room?”

Not the rec room, not the nest, not even the med bay.

His room.

The idea of his first nest in the castle sounded extremely appealing in his vulnerability. Lance nodded, vision fading out for a moment as he did so. Probably not the brightest idea he’d had.

“Okay. Am I allowed to touch you? I want to see if there’s anything I can do to help with your hands.” Pidge continued, her cool fingers barely brushing his skin as Hunk carefully gathered his smaller frame into his hands. Lance made a noise that might have been agreement, but it seemed to appease Pidge nonetheless.

Once settled, Lance allowed his head to rest in between the larger male’s neck and shoulder, feeling warm and surrounded by the faint scent of cinnamon. It was a Hunk thing, he was pretty sure, but it was a welcome distraction as he leaned into him, every inch of his body suddenly limp and uncooperative. Had he been more coherent, he would have noticed the concerned glances that the pair surrounding him kept exchanging, but he didn’t even stir until they came to his room and Hunk leaned over to settle him into his nest. It was a warm thing, layers of blankets and mismatched clothing that he’d pushed into place and continued to work at until it was perfect.

“Okay. Okay. Hunk, can you stay here with Lance while I go grab some stuff for his hands?” Pidge gathered herself together, trying not to look at the mess of missing feathers that made up the Galran wing on their flock-mate. The amount of blood that had been on the floor had been nauseating- namely due to the amount of force that Lance would have had to use to even rip them out of his skin.

That kind of mutilation spoke volumes as to how well he had responded to the apparent flock rejection.

“Yeah.” The other replied, carefully adjusting a handful of pillows around Lance before climbing into the nest next to him, facing him and carefully pulling him into a cradled hug, a large wing spreading over the top of the nest to obscure them both from sight. A moment later, a short flurry of faint chirps and coos ensued.

Pidge was holding herself together at the seams, but inwardly, she was ready to curl up and cry. Lance had vanished from the training deck and no one had been able to find him for almost an entire day. Pidge had very nearly attacked Keith when he tried to follow her and Hunk to search for their flock-mate, and not even Shiro was be able to pacify her. Her initial flock bonds had been forged, however reluctantly, between Lance and Hunk back in the Garrison. And despite everything, her loyalties would always lie with them first over their larger flock.

“Pidge.” Coran greeted in surprise as she entered the med bay, fidgety and all too eager to get back to Lance’s room to make sure that he was okay. She needed to grab some of her tools to work on his prosthetic, too. The thought displeased her- she wanted to make it back to Lance as quickly as she was able. “Are you alright?”

“We found him. Can you make sure that no one comes looking for him?” she asked, placing her trust in the Altean to help her. “He’s- it’s not-“

Coran’s features softened at the waver in her voice, the slump to her shoulders, and he placed whatever he had been working on down on a counter to face her fully. His warm wings reminded her of home, of her mother and Matt and before she knew it she was in tears and Coran was suddenly holding her against his chest as he knelt, rubbing circles between her wings.

“Whatever you need, Pidge.” He said firmly, perhaps a bit thickly. “I’ll make sure that no one bothers you, or my name isn’t Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe!”

“Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. Now, off you get, Number Five- you don’t want to make them wait any longer than you need!”

Coran bounced back on his heels, his wings adjusting themselves in a manner that suggested that perhaps he was still slightly emotional but didn’t want to admit it. The suspicious gleam in his eyes only cemented that idea, but Pidge didn’t say anything as she continued on her trek, quickly gathering what she needed before making a stop at her bedroom for her tools and then making her way back to Lance’s room.

She heard Hunk’s humming through the door as she approached- it was a soothing sound, Hunk had a lovely low voice that was smooth as velvet.

Lance was almost entirely invisible next to Hunk- it seemed that they had both had the same idea when it came to the third in their mini-flock- pulled close to Hunk’s chest, his hands carefully arranged so that there was little pressure on them, his injured wing splayed out over the edge of his nest.

“I’m back.” She announced, keeping her voice quiet so she wouldn’t startle Lance. “Hunk, can I get a look at his hands?”

“Lance?” Hunk paused his humming, adjusting his hold to meet Lance’s half-lidded gaze. “We’re going to move you around so Pidge can get a look at your hands, alright?”

A barely there nod- small, but at least it was better than the non-responsive state they’d found him in in the lower levels of the castle. Hunk nodded, folding his wings so that he could maneuver them both into a position where Pidge could reach Lance’s hands. The result was Lance with his back to Hunk’s chest, his injured wing out of the way and his hands in his lap.

Pidge winced as she looked them over, cautiously stepping into the nest and settling into a cross legged position so that she could gently take the flesh and bone one into her own.

Lance watched her with an odd detached look, looking more exhausted than she could ever remember him being. Not even after his capture had she seen him look this defeated. She hated it, hated seeing him so unlike the bright place in her life he had made himself. She looked up to him as another brother- he and Hunk had taught her how to fly, how to do the things Matt couldn’t be there for.

No.

She would be here for him, now.

Her determination pulsed through her, flowing through their bond to Hunk and then to Lance. Her love and protection, her need to keep them safe.

She turned her attention back to the bloody mess that Lance had made of himself, lightly running her fingers along the joints and pausing over the places that she could feel swelling. She had a feeling that at least one of his metacarpals had been cracked, if not broken- the quiet whine of pain that greeted her when she prodded at the spot confirmed as much.

“I’m going to have to wrap it and splint it.” She informed the pair, Hunk nodding as he moved a hand to run through Lance’s hair. “I’m sorry Lance, this is going to hurt.”

She glanced around at the armful of things she’d brought, glad that she had had the foresight to grab something vaguely splint-like in nature. If nothing else, she could use it to use as a cast of sorts.

_Thank you Matt,_ she thought, _for managing to break your hand from punching that bully._

Pidge worked efficiently, wrapping the injured hand and using the thicker material she’d brought as a brace along the tops of the knuckles and down to his wrist, tying it off and nodding to herself. It wasn’t the most professional of work, but it would do for now.

“Now let’s see what you did to your arm.” She sighed, unsure if she really wanted to look. She could see that a couple of the fingers had thick cracks in the metal, and something in the wrist had likely collapsed if the way Lance was moving it was any indication. The rest of it looked alright, thankfully, but there was still some serious work to be done. On top of that, she didn’t know what kind of internal damage the prosthetic had suffered.

“’m sorry.”

Lance wasn’t meeting her eyes as he all but mumbled the words.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Hunk assured, continuing his ministrations of running his hand through his hair.

“If anyone should be sorry, it’s us.” Pidge added softly, wings drooping. “It was a lot for us to take in, and we didn’t try to talk to you. Or at least about the issue. But I think this was a long time coming.”

Silence fell between them as Pidge got to work.

“ _Mama_ and I got into an arg’ment.” Lance slurred eventually, leaning his head back against Hunk’s shoulder. “Somethin’ stupid. I flew out and got stuck in a storm. Lightning’n everything. She tried to come get me, but I- she got caught by lightning right after she grabbed me. Nex’ thing I know I’m waking up in the hospital. _Mama’s_ gone, and I lose a wing. Almost died from the second strike, I think.”

“I never knew. I’m sorry.” Hunk whispered.

“Wingless don’t belong.” Lance mumbled, shifting to idly pluck at a dark feather. Hunk grabbed his hand, holding it preciously between his own. “So I pretended.”

Pidge knew exactly what Lance referred to. The thing about humans was that they were undeniably cruel when they chose to be. Those who didn’t have wings, or had lost their wings, often were seen as useless and unattractive.

Actually, a lot of things were beginning to make sense now that she thought about it.

“We don’t care. You’re still Lance.” She said with the utmost conviction. “Even after all this bullshit. And you’re both my brothers. Someone has to look out for you.”

She busied herself with her work, missing the look of startlement that crossed his features as he finally began to doze again, warmth budding in his chest.

“Pidge?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOME RESOLUTIONS AND LONG OVERDUE APOLOGIES ARE HERE, YA'LL. 
> 
> Also I may have slipped Shance in. Like, actual Shance. Bonding moment and everything. And only.... in the sequel? Talk about glacial. But, I digress.

Pidge and Hunk were scarce for the next couple of days, their flock-instincts kicking in as they came to the aid of one of their own.

There was the occasional appearance- they had to eat, and at one point Hunk emerged for clean clothing for himself and Pidge- but otherwise they were content to remain in Lance’s nest, gently reassuring and caring for him.

He was eating, thankfully, and he’d been carefully bathed at one point (he’d needed it, considering Pidge still had to examine the full extent of the damage that had been done to his Galran wing), but he otherwise was quiet. He allowed himself to be gently maneuvered into Hunk’s careful hold as Pidge carefully checked him over for any further injury that she may have missed, and he tolerated being neatly groomed while Pidge was tucked into his side, his biological wing thoroughly taken care of whilst his Galra wing recovered from the damage he had caused.

In such close proximity, however, their minds brushed against one another’s, their thoughts flickering throughout the bond. Lance’s thoughts were filled with shards of broken glass and flashes of heat and pain. At one point Hunk had flinched as a flash of Haggar’s face crossed through their minds.

Lance shifted, a soft noise of distress leaving him at discovering that Hunk’s warm presence had disappeared at some point since the last time he had woken.

“Sh. He just went to get some food.” Pidge soothed, running a hand through his hair as she tapped away on something on her tablet with the other. “It’s alright.”

“Nothing’s alright.” He croaked, wincing when she glanced up at him, pausing in her ministrations.

“No.” she agreed easily. “And it’s probably not going to be for a while, if at all. But we’re not leaving, Lance. You can’t get rid of Hunk and I that quickly.”

“The others probably hate me.”

“Why would they hate you?”

“I just screamed at them.” He replied miserably, a low keen of distress leaving his throat. Pidge cooed in reply, setting down her tablet to gently burrow next to him under the blankets, her cheek tucked in between his shoulder and neck.

“I think we all knew that was coming sooner or later.” She admitted. “And you weren’t in the best state of mind, either. It was a lot for us to take in.”

He let out a breath, shaky.

“I’m messed up, Pidge.”

“Join the club. Meetings are every Thursday.” She deadpanned, seeking out his flesh hand and carefully running her thumb along the non-injured section of skin that she was able. “Lance, none of us are okay. We’re kids who ended up in space, fighting a ten thousand year old war against aliens that we didn’t even know existed up until now. Shiro has PTSD. You have PTSD. Pretty sure we all do to a degree. I’m an insomniac. Keith’s emotionally distant. Hunk has anxiety. If anything, we should have been a better flock and actually made sure you were okay instead of just taking your word for it and stepping around you like you’re made of glass.”

Not for the first time, she felt his shoulders tremble as he silently cried against her. Frowning, she reached over his shoulder to run her fingers through his feathers in a soothing repetition.

“You’re not alone.” She said quietly, blinking back tears of her own. “Not again.”

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t much of a surprise that Keith would try to get past Coran.

What was a surprise- and an admittedly pleasant one- was the fact that Coran stalwartly refused him entry.

True to his word, the elder Altean had taken up residence outside of the door and refused to let anyone in unless it was Pidge or Hunk following their first day in the room. The fact that the same ban extended to Allura made something in Pidge’s chest soften at the lengths that he was willing to go to give them this peace of mind while Lance was still in his less than stellar mental condition.

Actually, it was something that she’d always just seen as a given with Coran- he always seemed to be present when he was needed, and gave everyone the space that they required without even needing to be asked. He’d taken all of them under his wings at one point or another, and it was a bit startling to realize that she had come to think of him as a paternal figure, if not an uncle.

Regardless, no one had been able to hear the specifics through the thick layer of blankets and the door between them and the resulting argument, but there was silence after a point that suggested that Keith had most definitely not won that round.

Allura had, at one point, also tried to get past Coran, but her attempts, as Coran had informed them, had been more tempered. Not to mention that she took the rejection better.

However, there was no report of Shiro. And while that was, on some level, a relief to Pidge, Lance didn’t think so. He felt extremely guilty for exploding on the older man like that, never mind what kind of flashback it could have caused later on.

(This was something that Pidge had not anticipated, even though Shiro had been okay when they were looking for Lance. Rather, okay for Shiro.)

It was almost a week of their self-induced exile that Lance finally blinked away the last of his tears, sighed, and pulled himself together by the weak threads that held him there. He was drawn, pale, and was still far from being okay, but there was a point when they all knew they had to leave the security of the nest and face the world once again.

Lance still felt off balance, as if everything hadn’t quite adjusted as he had, but he had little choice but to heave his broken pieces together. They were a part of Voltron. As much as he hated the thought, there was only so long that he could fall prey to his thoughts. The simmering in his veins had died down to gentle embers, and the remnants of the warmth that Pidge and Hunk had left behind resonated deeply within his mind. It was warmth of love and concern and worry and everything that he had truly needed to help pull himself through the torrent of sheer everything that had broken through the mental dam holding it back. But he also knew that right now, their team needed to recollect themselves. A lot had been said, a lot of things that he could admit he wasn’t proud of- regardless of how much of it were true or not.

“You okay?” Hunk prompted, breaking him from his thoughts. Lance blinked, realizing that he had paused halfway through pulling on his boots, before tilting his head in the equivalent of a shrug.

“I feel… more balanced, I guess. Not great, but I have to fix things.”

Hunk moved closer to him, his large earthen wings a solid presence that would always provide comfort, even if the sensation of looming danger flashed around him from his memories.

“I know. But Pidge and I will be here for you.”

“Yeah. I know. Thanks, Hunk.”

He reached out, pulling Hunk in for the first time, initiating the contact that he wished he had done a long time ago. He was just short enough that he could wrap his arms comfortably around his torso, leaning against his chest and simply basking in the simplicity of touch. It was amazing, realizing over the last several days everything he had been denying himself- with a lot of help from both Hunk and Pidge.

Speaking of-

“Come on, you two. Coran says that he made some vaguely edible food goo and saved us some.”

Pidge’s wings were beginning to smooth out, Lance noted as he pulled away from Hunk. Less downy feathers, more adult feathers coming through. On some level, he knew that it had been a while since he’d actually interacted and socialized with the flock, but on the other hand, it seemed like it had only been yesterday that he and Hunk had been teaching her how to fly.

As if noticing his look, Pidge furrowed her brow and glanced at him, studying his features as her mental self brushed by him, curious and light as a feather.

“You’re a sap.” She snorted once she pinpointed the reason for his odd look. Even as she said it, however, her features softened, and she looked more like the teenager that she was rather than the adult she usually acted like. “But you’re my sap, so I guess I’ll have to forgive you.”

“You can’t really blame me.” He smiled tiredly, offering a one armed hug to the smaller of their flock. “Apparently I’m touch-starved, emotionally stunted, _and_ you guys somehow managed to help me through what is probably the third hardest time in my life. So… thank you. I don’t think I can ever say that enough.”

Pidge sighed and pretended that she was not a little bit teary eyed at the declaration as she pressed herself into the offered arm, instead making sure that the brace was still secure around his flesh hand.

“Just make sure you don’t hurt your hand any more, and if you break your prosthetic you’re on your own, got it?” she muttered, ignoring the flush of her cheeks.

“Aye aye, Pidgeon.” He chuckled. The sound was tired and quiet, but nonetheless it was a positive thing. Something that proved that things could get better. “Now let’s go find some food before Coran comes back to get us.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was Allura who approached them first, waiting until they had all managed to get some food into their stomachs before quietly knocking and entering the room.

She looked haggard, so unlike the stoic leader that they had come to know. Her hair was pulled back into a loose braid, her clothing rumpled at the edges and at the hems of her sleeves. Even her wings were in disarray- if Pidge had to guess, she would say that the princess had been stress preening them.

“I understand if none of you wish to see me.” She started, voice small as she curled in on herself. “But I wish to apologize.”

Immediately, the pair glanced to Lance for confirmation or denial. Quite honestly, they had all been growing weary of Allura’s behavior before now. The catalyst had simply been the straw that broke the camel’s back- Lance.

His wings were held carefully behind him- neutral, Pidge decided. Neither welcoming nor rejecting, he simply tilted his head and nodded.

“It was only a matter of time before I needed to talk to you anyway, princess.” He said wearily.

“I… understand.” She nodded, wings trembling as she moved further into the room. “I owe you all an apology- not just Lance, but I’m afraid I must air my words to him first.”

It was then that Lance realized just how young Allura looked- he’d always known that she was young for an Altean, but now the true reality of that thought seemed to be manifesting. She couldn’t have been much older than Shiro, really. Rather, the Altean equivalent.

It was a day of realizations, it seemed.

“Admittedly, I am not the leader my father was.” She smiled faintly, averting her eyes downward. “Nor am I particularly suited to the task, as I have since discovered. But I would like to think that I have tried to- even though I see now that my leadership has cost us much in the process.”

Hunk shifted as if he wanted to move and comfort her, but Allura pressed on.

“I pushed all of you, perhaps too greatly, whilst I was in the midst of my own grief for my people, my planet. I thought that if perhaps I was stronger, and by default the paladins, I could make a difference. But I see now that it has only cost us more. If I had not pushed Lance away or made him feel as though he did not have a place here, none of this would have happened. And for that, I am sorry.”

Silence fell between them for a long moment.

“I’d be lying if I said I hated you.” Lance said softly. “I don’t. But there’s not a lot that we can do for the past now. I know I haven’t been in the best place, mentally. But Hunk and Pidge have been helping me realize a few things. Mostly that it’s not one person’s fault that all of this happened. We should have all been more supportive to each other instead of trying to push each other apart. But we did. And it hurts, knowing that for a while, you didn’t think of me as much a paladin as you did everyone else. Thank you for apologizing. I just… I need a bit of time before I can start being the person you want to see again.”

“I understand.” Allura nodded, wiping at her cheeks. “I _am_ sorry, Lance. For everything that I may have done to make you uncomfortable or feel that you didn’t have a place here. I want to get to know you more, if and when you will allow me.”

“I’d like that.” Lance smiled.

She nodded a faint half smile of her own, meeting the trio’s gaze as she moved to leave, looking much more like her usual self.

The second she was gone, Lance relaxed, looking far too relieved.

“That was stressful.” He said simply, leaning into Hunk’s side. “And I still have to talk to Keith and Shiro.”

“You know, you don’t _have_ to do it all today.”

Lance shook his head, frowning. That was a bad idea in and of itself. He distantly remembered something about Keith trying to continue to barge into his room and disrupt his nest. If he kept avoiding the temperamental Red Paladin, it was pretty much a guarantee that it wouldn’t end well. At all.

“No. I should get it over with.”

“Fine. But you’re going to come and nest with us tonight.” Hunk relented. “Do you want back up?”

“Nah. I should probably go after Keith solo.”

“Alright. Pidge and I were thinking of heading down to the work shop to get some stuff done. You come find us if you need to.”

“I will.” Lance promised, a warmth settling in his chest.

“And stop giving us those looks. It’s making me _feel_ things.” Pidge shuddered, though there was nothing but amusement in her thoughts as they brushed against him.

“I make no promises, my vertically challenged little Pidgeon.” He cooed, reaching for her and tugging her into his grip before she could move out of the way. “It feels like forever since we formed our flock.”

“We’re turning into _adults_.” Hunk stage whispered before chuckling.

It drew a laugh of the pair, and Lance decided that he may as well get the process of hunting Keith down- not that it was hard, the guy almost never left the training deck- and talking to him. Rationally was a fifty-fifty chance, considering that it was Keith that he was talking about here, but nonetheless he needed to have this conversation.

Whether he liked it or not.

 

* * *

 

 

He almost lost his nerve as he stood outside of the training deck, his palm sweaty under the brace and his body feeling like there was too much energy buzzing through it. His hands immediately sought out the Galran wing before he caught himself and inhaled deeply. Pidge would kill him if he plucked any more feathers, and if he was completely honest, he hated seeing the look of utter horror that she had worn while she was attentively seeking out the damaged feathers.

_My paladin._

Blue had been present but silent the last several days, offering her comfort in what ways that she believed she could.

“Hey beautiful.”

_You can do this, my paladin. They worry for you. I worry for you. But I am here._

He’d never really noticed it before, but Blue sounded reminiscent of his mother. Acted much the same. Always nudging him in the correct direction, always making sure that he was okay before she would turn her attention to herself.

“Thank you.” He smiled.

_For you, I would go to the ends of the universe._

Lance opened the door.

Keith looked about as terrible as Allura had. His wings, usually rigid, were flared behind him as he rather viciously tore them apart with his bayard and hands. His dark hair was a mess, and Lance was fairly certain that he could see dark bags under his eyes that were more prominent than he could recall them ever being before.

“End simulation.”

The program shut itself down, and Keith whirled as if to snarl something- only to pause as he realized who it was standing in the doorway.

“Hey.”

Keith exhaled sharply, turning to run a hand through his sweaty, mussed hair as his wings flicked in irritation.

“You’re a goddamn idiot.”

“So I’ve been told.”

He was wary, but there was relief, too. Keith was still Keith, still treating him as if he was still the same person he’d always been.

“So, a lightning storm?”

“Yeah.”

“That sucks.”

A laugh managed to claw its way out of his throat at that, and he nodded, relaxing further.

“Pretty badly.” He agreed. “Truth be told, I’d pretty much accepted that I’d never fly again. So when this whole nightmare happened…”

“Lance, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Keith looked vaguely uncomfortable as he turned again, moving forward to stand in front of him.

“I’m sorry. I was a huge ass to you and even if I didn’t know why you acted the way you did, I shouldn’t have done it anyway.”

“Keith, don’t worry about it.” Lance shook his head. The other paladin lifted his head in confusion, mouth opening, but he cut him off. “Seriously. This situation could have been handled a lot differently in a lot of different ways. But it _didn’t_ , and it happened. So let’s just… move on? Start fresh?”

He offered his prosthetic, acknowledging that his other hand was a bit too compromised for a handshake at the moment, but for once he found that he didn’t care quite so much. Judging by the look on Keith’s face, he’d come to some kind of realization of his own, and hesitantly took the hand and shook it once.

“The name’s Lance.” He greeted, a wry smirk on his lips.

“Keith.”

He was smiling as he said it, though. Lance felt something lift off of his shoulders at that smile, for the first time in a long time believing that this time, everything would turn out alright.

 

* * *

 

 

After managing to spar a round with Keith, it came out that Shiro had gone AWOL after _The Explosion_.

Lance had had a feeling that it would have happened- he hadn’t exactly been in the best frame of mind, and throwing all of his emotional turmoil in Shiro’s direction probably hadn’t been the best idea for several reasons. One of which including that Shiro already beat himself up enough over things that weren’t in his control. Another being that Lance knew- and had been thoroughly educated- in the matter that he and Shiro did have PTSD.

So blowing up at him like that was not a great idea.

Keith had a look in his eye when he told Lance that he would probably know where to find him and coax him out, because apparently he’d even been hiding from Keith. Who was basically a brother in all but blood to the guy.

Also another huge hint that he had fucked up fairly spectacularly, but who was counting?

Obviously, he wasn’t in his room, or the training deck. The Black Lion had been little help, either, considering that Black obviously harbored some distaste toward him, but if nothing else he was persistent in his search.

Several hours later- and still no luck- it finally hit him where he might find Shiro.

The observation deck was beautiful, the ceiling of glass panelling opening up to the stars above- constellations upon constellations that were unfamiliar- always unfamiliar. They had long since left behind their stars, their constellations, to journey farther than any other human had before.

Shiro was lying on his back in the middle of the deck, wings splayed out as if in flight. His elbows rested on the ground, his hands tucked up on his stomach. His legs were crossed at the ankles, and for all intents and purposes, he could have been asleep. But the glassy stare at nothing in particular suggested otherwise.

Lance quietly approached, sitting just out of reach of one massive wing, knowing that Shiro knew he was there. He said nothing, either, simply tilting his head back to look out at the myriad of constellations above them.

“I know you didn’t ask for any of this.” Shiro finally said, breaking the silence between them. “You didn’t ask to be pulled apart at the seams and put back together. Or thrown into the arena. Or taken away from Earth to fight this war. You didn’t ask for any of it.”

“I know.” He replied softly. “But it happened. Not just me, either. To both of us.”

Shiro hummed something that may have been an acknowledgement, but he remained still on the floor. By far, he looked the worst out of everyone that Lance had been talked to. He probably hadn’t slept, if Lance’s own experiences with nightmares were any indication. If he’d been eating, there weren’t any signs of plates or cutlery, but he probably wouldn’t be this coherent if he was dehydrated so he had likely wandered the halls at night in search of sustenance.

“I’m sorry.” Lance blurted, tucking his knees in to his chest. “You didn’t deserve me screaming any of that in your face. Especially after everything you’ve been through.”

Silence fell between them again, blanketing them in the silence of the castle as it glided through empty space.

“You’re not useless.”

It startled a laugh out of him, his arms crossing over his knees to lean his chin on them.

“Pidge and Hunk have been saying as much.” He said quietly. “But it’s hard, when from the beginning it seemed like you were all the perfect paladins. You all have a thing. I mean, you’re our leader, and you’re always there for us. Hunk and Pidge are incredible- Hunk’s an engineer and can cook anything you ask him to, and Pidge can hack pretty much anything she wants. Keith’s incredible with a sword. Allura and Coran are both Altean…”

He paused, gathering his thoughts, collecting them into a conscious stream that he could communicate.

“I just never had a thing. It was bad enough that I was useless without two wings, but it’s not like I bring anything to the team. I thought that maybe I was the sharpshooter, but I don’t even know if I can do that right anymore. I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin and that none of this is real, even though I know it is. I want everything to be okay, but I want everything to also… not be?”

His breath hitched at the thought of his family, and Lance buried his face into his arms to hide the traces of the heat building at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t _know_ what I want anymore.”

There was shuffling, and Lance registered that Shiro had moved a moment before his hand fell gently onto his shoulder, uncertain.

“It’s _okay_ not to know what you want.” He rumbled soothingly as he moved to seat himself next to him, a wing coming to drape around him like a curtain.

“Why does it feel like shit?”

“I don’t know.”

If Shiro noticed the tear tracks on his cheeks, he said nothing.

“You’re our flock-brother.” He said instead, looking out at the stars. “And you’re always making sure that we’re not thinking about things too deeply. You’re so giving and compassionate, Lance- no one can take that away from you. Not even Haggar.”

“She took everything else away.”

“Physically, maybe.” Shiro agreed, leaning into him and offering a tentative brush of _something_ into Lance’s thoughts. “But you’re worth more than she’ll ever be. You survived everything she did to you. You made it out of the _Arena_. That’s no small feat.”

“You made it out too.” Lance said thickly, sniffing.

“Yeah.”

“You’re worth more than what she did to you too.”

He knew that he’d taken him off guard when Shiro didn’t immediately reply. For a moment, Lance almost thought that he had said the wrong thing, but he tentatively looked at the other male out of the corner of his eye, noticing that not only did Shiro look stunned, but tears were forming at the corners of his eyes.

“Shiro?”

“Just- no one’s told me that.” He laughed wetly, swiping at his eyes. “Keith always tried, somehow, but…”

“He’s Keith.” Lance finished.

“Words aren’t really his strong suit when it comes to comforting the people he cares about.” Shiro nodded.

At this proximity, Shiro could see every freckle that decorated Lance’s skin. Every inch of his narrow features, down to the last scar that marred his jawline. And for some inexplicable reason, the only feeling that that realization brought was a strange contentment.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Black was rumbling their approval.

It was something he’d begun to notice since they had gotten Lance back. They didn’t speak often, nor did they spend much time together, but he was beginning to see something that he wasn’t entirely certain how to act upon.

“Are you okay?”

“I thought we agreed that was a stupid question.” He chuckled.

“Fair point.” Lance smiled faintly.

He seemed to offer few of those rare smiles, now. Shiro noted. It didn’t suit their Blue paladin- Lance was meant to be full of life and enthusiasm and a light that brought the rest of their flock together, bound together carefully with care and affection.

But, he realized, perhaps that had never been the real Lance.

“What were you like? Before-“ Shiro made a gesture at the stars outside the window and then at his wing.

“Before I lost my wing? A lot like I was before, I guess.” Lance shrugged. “I loved the ocean. We live right next to the bluffs on the beach- I learned how to fly when my _abuela_ threw me off one of them. She helped raise us- _Mama_ had her hands full with three of us, and when the twins came along she moved in with us. _Papa_ died when we were younger- cancer, I think.”

He let himself drift into the soft memories, allowing Shiro to glimpse them through their thoughts.

“After – well, I wasn’t in a good place. None of us were. Everyone but _abuela_ seemed to blame me for… so I didn’t stay home much. I went back to the bluffs a lot.”

He’d shared some of this with Pidge and Hunk, but with Shiro it felt more… intimate. As if each word were precious. And as they sat there, both wounded hearts and scarred bodies, something within Lance began to finally heal.

When they finally managed to say the words that they had needed to, exhaustion was steeped to their very bones. Who knew how long that Shiro had been awake, and Lance had no idea how long that he had been up.

Shiro reclined, his hands automatically pulling Lance close to him as his wing stretched out to cover them both in a blanket of dark feathers, and Lance found himself relaxing in the grip, knowing that he was safe and warm and held carefully in the arms of someone who would not hurt him.

When Pidge and Coran finally managed to find them, they were wrapped in one another’s arms, looking more peaceful in sleep than they had awake in a long time, a tangle of wings and prosthetics and flesh and bone.

They decided to leave them be- but not before Pidge managed to get pictures.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been thinking about writing a series of ficlets and oneshots set in this universe- if anyone wants to/would want to see something, I'd be happy to fill a suggestion/prompt! 
> 
> Also, there's a lot of Pidge in this one. And like, half of it is weirdly fluffy and has no real purpose? Oops.

Recovery, in any form, was not easy.

Things didn’t, and likely wouldn’t ever, get back to the way they were before everything had happened.

Acceptance of that fact, however, certainly helped things along.

Being paladins was something that none of the flock had anticipated that fateful night when Shiro had come plummeting back to Earth, but it had happened. Were they all dwelling it more than was necessary? Most definitely. But that was part of the whole flock experience. When one suffered, they all suffered.

Apparently today was one of the _singular-suffering_ sort of days.

Pidge snarled wordlessly as the tiny part she had been welding into place snapped and then sizzled, self-destructing a moment later. She had been working on the damned thing for almost three days straight, and evidently the universe hated her. One thing after another continued to go wrong, whether it was the slight calibration of her calculations running on her tablet, her favourite screwdriver going missing, failed simulations in her coding…

She groaned, carefully placing her tools down before slumping back in her seat, pulling off her gloves to massage her eyes. She wanted to scream, to beat her head against the wall until something finally went fucking _right_ , but she knew, realistically, that none of that would help. Ideally, sleep would be the best option. However, with all of the strangeness going on in the castle, Pidge wasn’t sure that she wanted to leave her work.

The night of “ _The Incident_ ”, as it was now called, (at least to her) had been several days prior. And since then, things had been a little on edge.

No, not on edge. Just… odd.

Pidge knew that Lance and Shiro had had a moment. She was ninety percent certain _Shiro_ had realized it, but _Lance_ was utterly oblivious. Not that she could blame him- he had been through a pretty traumatic evening to start with. The fact that he had actively sought out Shiro’s company, however, was a promising sign.

On the surface, everything was almost like it had been at the beginning- Lance training, whether alone or with Keith, though he made a distinct effort to spend time with Pidge and Hunk as well now. Their dynamic had shifted into one of closeness and affection from the ashes of Lance’s breakdown.

But if nothing else, he was most often with Blue. The pair likely had the strongest bond amongst all of the paladins, and what with everything they had been through it was likely that it was only going to grow stronger over time.

Hunk was in the kitchen with some assistance from Coran. He knew his way around enough that the Altean didn’t really need to be present anymore, but Coran seemed to enjoy spending time with him and assuming the role of taste-tester when asked. If he wasn’t there, Hunk was either in his workshop, or trying to bond more with Yellow.

Keith was almost as sociable as Lance nowadays- but it was a noticeable margin. If he wasn’t training- and he trained a _lot_ \- he was in his room or with Red or even just wandering the castle. It probably had something to do with the life of isolation that Keith had led before they’d all been catapulted into a life of defending the universe against the Galra. It didn’t stop him from quietly making himself at home whenever the group as a whole were in a room, or showing up more frequently for meals and grooming.

Allura was the consistent- she spent most of her time in the control room, sifting through distress signals from the last ten thousand years and finding everything that needed to be optimized in the Castle of Lions. Her work was never through, nor did she seem particularly inclined to take a break. Pidge had a feeling that it had to do with her grieving process with the loss of Altea and her father. She may act as though it didn’t bother her as much, but Pidge recognized the signs to know that even now, she was still grieving. Likely would for the rest of her life.

Shiro was the one trying to be everywhere at once, _and he didn’t even seem to realize that he did it._

It was one of the many reasons that Pidge knew that he was an incredible leader and deserved to be the head of Voltron. When Keith found himself in one of his day-long training sessions, Shiro was there to make sure that he took a water break and even went a few rounds with the younger. When Hunk got quiet and hid himself away from the rest of them, Shiro would go and make sure that he was doing okay and lean against their gentle giant, wing spread around him in comfort. When Lance went somewhere else in his mind, Shiro would get a look of sad understanding and quietly talk him back to the present. Allura and Coran didn’t really need Shiro’s brand of comfort, but he still offered himself as another set of hands, another pair of eyes and strong wings at their service.

And as for her…

Pidge knew that she didn’t cope well with emotions. It had been something that she’d always struggled with, being the prodigy daughter of Samuel Holt. Social interactions had been hard as Katie Holt, but they had been harder as Pidge Gunderson. Trying to shield herself from being found out, trying to hold on to the semblance of normalcy despite her family being taken from her and the organization responsible covering it up, she had survived by carefully applying the dyes to her feathers to make them look a dark sienna and hiding them beneath the bulky uniform so that Iverson wouldn’t find her out.

Technology was her element- hacking and coding in particular, but Pidge loved everything and anything she could get her hands on and learn and incorporate into her skill set. Being the Green Paladin, it made sense that she had the innate curiosity that drove her to do these things.

Nowadays, however, Pidge often found herself wondering if it was worth it. Her knowledge did good, yes, but rather than creation and furthering her skills, it seemed more and more like she was circling the drain that was building tech to stop the Galra from hurting her flock and hacking into the Galra systems to hunt for her brother and father. She was spending more time locked in her workshop than she had before. This was something that she could do to help Lance, help the team.

She sighed, inhaling deeply to try and calm herself down. Raging at an inanimate object was definitely not going to help her right now. But maybe Hunk would be able to help her. He was an engineer- he might be the missing piece of her messed up technological puzzle, and maybe even Coran could help with the design elements…

“Alright.” She muttered, shoving herself back from her work table. “Let’s go find Hunk.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hunk, I need you.”

The larger male only had a moment before her vice-like grip grabbed his shirt and she was hauling him up and out of his chair. Considering her tiny size, Hunk deduced that the rest of the strength lay in her wings and sheer bottled up rage.

He squawked as he nearly toppled on top of her, but knew better than to try and resist. He recognized sleep-deprived Pidge. Sleep-deprived Pidge was not like Normal-Pidge. Sleep-deprived Pidge could and would take on an entire fleet of Galra and win.

Handily.

But only if provoked.

“Okay. What do you need help with?” he asked instead, re-folding his wings as he managed to fall into step. “Obviously it’s a big project.”

“Huge.” She growled. “And everything keeps going _wrong_.”

Hunk could tell that this was something important simply due to the fact that she had sought him out while smack dab in the middle of one of her tech-binges. Otherwise she would have already powered through it and done it herself.

“In theory the idea is sound, but realistically nothing is coming together and none of the tests I’ve done are working out.” Pidge muttered to herself as she dragged Hunk back to her lair, nearly kicking in the door when it didn’t open quick enough to her tastes.

The second that he saw the long work table and what exactly was covering it, Hunk had a pretty good idea what Pidge was so worked up about.

“You’ve been working on prosthetics and you didn’t tell _me?”_ he demanded, torn between scolding the youngest of their flock and running to the nearest model and cooing over it.

“I did.”

“No, you said that you wanted to see if a prosthetic could be made for Shiro.” Hunk disagreed.

“And I did. Sort of. The designs for his are over…. there?” Pidge gestured vaguely over her shoulder as she let go of Hunk’s arm to drop heavily into her chair, suddenly looking absolutely exhausted. “These ones are for Lance.”

Now that she mentioned it, he did notice the subtle differences between the model he was peering at compared to his mental mapping of Shiro’s arm. This one was a little longer than Shiro’s , and was left handed instead of right.

“I keep trying to design something that’s _right_ for them, but I just keep getting stuck.” She sighed, running her hands through her mussed hair and leaning back, her wings flicking back and forth every several moments. “And just when I think I designed the right one, the coding doesn’t work, or the wiring simulations fail, or it _breaks_.”

“Okay.” Hunk said, the gears beginning to turn in his head as she spoke. His gaze wandered around the large, dimly lit room, settling on several arms of different makes and stages of completion. “Okay. We’re going to do this. Which designs are the ones you like the best?”

“They’re all terrible.” She muttered darkly. “But probably the ones I was working on before shit started to explode.”

“That’s a start.” Hunk nodded, rolling up his sleeves as he pulled up a chair and examined the sketches and designs littering the table. “Have you been working on them as a whole or bit by bit?”

“That one-“ Pidge pointed, “was the one that I was trying to figure out for Shiro. The codes are at a eighty-nine percent success rate in all scenarios, so I’m trying to start working on a solid design for his prosthetic. Since I’m working from the original as a base, I’ve already figured out the way everything needs to get built- it’s just a matter of figuring out how all the parts go together.”

“Alright. And Lance?”

The glower that crossed her features had a shiver of unease running up his spine. Pidge was not pleased about the question.

_To whatever god is listening, I’m sorry I made you angry just let me live to see tomorrow._

“I don’t want that druidic bitch to ever touch Lance again.” She hissed, fingers clenching like she wanted to rip something to pieces. After a quick glance and double-checking, Hunk handed her a piece of blank paper- to which she immediately began working into tiny little chunks.

“None of us do. So let’s figure this out and get them done.” Hunk said firmly, doing his best not to think of anything other than the task at hand.

Redirecting Pidge’s anxious energy wasn’t quite as easy, but after Hunk began bringing up screens of coding and designs, she slowly abandoned her sour expression and began collaborating with him. Which, he thought with some disgruntlement, he would have liked to have been doing from the start.

“So if we run this line through here…” Hunk demonstrated with the 3D image floating in front of he and Pidge, “We should be able to connect the rest of the wiring around it.”

“Which would also reduce the amount of friction between the hydraulics.” Pidge nodded, inputting the data into her tablet as well as jotting it down on her notepad.

Hey, computers weren’t _completely_ infallible, as she had learned all too clearly on several occasions.

“Right. So with that part figured out, let’s move on to the actual attachment point.” Pidge began, bringing up the aforementioned design on her tablet. “I originally thought that we’d just run the artificial veins into the originals with the implant in the skull and call it good, but I’m starting to think that using quintessence as a power source would make more sense if we could figure out a conversion method that uses very little of it.”

“Solar power?”

Pidge hummed, mulling that thought over. “It makes sense. But it would have to be done in a way that if it’s damaged it’s not going to suddenly amp up the power levels. That would likely lead to some really weird shit going on and possibly a serious malfunction. And also a back-up system in case we’re somewhere that there isn’t a lot of light.”

Hunk nodded, leaning back in his chair as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

“We’d need a storage center of some kind in a panel, right?”

“It would make sense.” Pidge shrugged. “But we need this to be as minimal as possible.”

They both fell silent at that, thoughts in their head beginning to take over for a long moment.

“You think we should ask Coran?”

“Probably.”

 

* * *

 

 

Recovery, for others, meant doing things to relieve their stress.

It was a successful mission- Voltron hadn’t even been needed to drive off the few Galra cruisers that had been hovering around the small planet- basically just a floating rock, if they were being honest.

But the planet that said floating rock orbited was much more interesting. For one thing, it was a planet with an atmosphere similar to Earth- the first that they had found since arriving in space.

After confirmation that the atmosphere would be safe to breathe, it hadn’t been much longer before the flock had convinced Allura to allow them to stay a few days while they regrouped. Lance in particular seemed eager at the prospect of the thick covering of fluffy clouds that tracked paths over half the planet, and wasted no time in taking Blue down to the planet to stretch his wings.

It was a planet not unlike the plains of Africa, they supposed. The grasses and trees were all in varying shades of soft greys and charcoals- Pidge immediately felt like she had walked into a black and white film. In the distance, there were the faint outlines of what could be considered mountains, though it was likely they were more like rolling hills.

And then it started to rain.

It was the sound of low rustling, like wind through the trees, the temperature cooling as the light mist began to fall from above.

Lance tipped his head back, his mouth falling open with a soft cry, his wings immediately moving to open.

Keith smiled at the sight, even though he didn’t quite understand. He’d lived out in a desert- rain was rare and mostly unfamiliar to him. However, he couldn’t deny the pang of longing as he too, tilted his head back, not realizing that all of the humans present were doing the same.

“It’s just like home.” Lance whispered finally, turning to look at his flock.

Allura and Coran looked more confused than anything, but despite that there was nothing but rolling contentment and homesickness through their bond.

“C’mon, let’s get up there.” Hunk smiled warmly, gently bumping Lance’s shoulder with a wing. “You don’t even need the weight anymore. You’ve got this.”

“Let’s go then.” Lance said before taking a step and punching downward with his wings, propelling himself into the air with deceptive ease. It took a few more beats of his mismatched wings before he evened out, the rain beginning to fall heavier as Hunk and the rest of the humans joined him. Lance savored the sensation of the water against his wings. It had been so long since he had done this, able to fly without his helmet and actually fly and pretend he was home.

A stream of playful pleasure shot through him over their mental bond, rebounding and amplifying in him as he glided, angling himself to gain height as he surveyed his potential prey.

Shiro and Keith were looping circles below him, Allura and Coran easily catching up to them with their two sets of wings, while Pidge seemed content to follow Hunk as he stayed near enough to Lance that they could speak to one another.

Shiro seemed a reasonable mark, Lance thought to himself. Something in him thought it was a wise idea, and Blue’s amusement only further served to fuel him.

As if sensing his thoughts, Shiro glanced up at him, but it was too late.

Lance clipped his wings as he dropped like a rock, a wild laugh peeling out of him as he flared his wings again and banked sharply, lazily gaining height.

Shiro jolted, instinctively veering away from whatever had done it before realizing that it had been Lance. Pidge doubled over and clutched her stomach, dropping a few feet before catching herself, giggling at the look of sheer disbelief on Shiro’s face. It was just like being back on that other planet, with Lance taking flight for the first time since being captured.

Keith chuckled as he got out of the way, deciding that he didn’t want to get involved with Lance’s antics. Besides, it was more fun to watch everything unfold rather than to stay in the line of fire.

Shiro let out a strangled laugh as Lance looped around again, determined to lure him into a game of tag. Pidge shrugged and cackled as she dive-bombed the pair, Hunk sighing as he followed to make sure she didn’t do anything too out of line.

The rain quickly soaked them all to the bone, but Lance acted as though it didn’t bother him in the least, his long hair plastered against his cheeks and a smile a mile wide on his lips. He felt light- lighter than he had felt in years, and as Pidge nearly landed on his back he whooped with laughter and twisted to try and grab her into a head lock.

“You going to get involved?” Keith asked Shiro as he glided past Shiro, his lips quirking upward. Another moment later and Pidge decided that Keith was an ideal target, mobbing him in her quest to escape Lance’s futile attempts at grappling at her.

“Keeeiiiithhhhh!” she cried dramatically, ducking under him. He only had a few seconds to prepare himself before Lance followed, the wind and water flicking from his wings spattering Keith square in the face, much to the rest of the flock’s amusement. Coran laughed brightly as he pumped his wings, rising to tentatively brush wings with Shiro before joining in the merriment.

Before long it was only Shiro and Allura left gliding around below the main group, Shiro looking more hesitant than anything.

“Come on, Shiro!” Pidge cajoled, diving down past him before pulling up.

Lance grinned at the look of contentment that crossed their flock leader’s features, his own chest feeling warm with the resounding emotions that continued to bounce through their bond. And yet, Shiro still hadn’t deigned to come up to the higher elevation to play with the rest of them.

_Amusement._

_Curiosity._

_Wariness._

_Content._

That same odd feeling that he recalled happening once before rippled through him, and with a throaty call, Lance initiated the chase, taking off like a shooting star across the sky. The rain stung his cheeks as Hunk and Keith and Pidge followed, low cries of their own echoing around them.

It didn’t feel like anything Lance could remember- this was deeper, something buried down in his chest that screamed at him to lure them after him, to test their skills against his own, something feral and pulling him.

Keith was the first to catch up to him, brushing his toes with his hands before pushing himself further ahead, corkscrewing in a flurry of wings that was impressive, but _not right_.

Keening, Lance flared his wings further, lifting himself higher through the rain and the chilled wind to fly above the other, their wings melding in a rhythm that was lacking the beat that he sought.

_Brother brother brother._ Their rhythm hummed, their mental bond singing with the word. Both seemed to realize it at the same moment- Keith slowed, Lance dipping back down and turning to angle himself back the way they had come, startling Hunk and Pidge as they parted to allow him through.

Keith lazily whirled to land on the ground below, allowing his wings to drag along the leathery grass to cool himself. Allura joined him several moments later, Coran not far behind as the remaining four continued their strange ducking and weaving around one another.

Pidge joined them a couple of minutes later, out of breath and positively beaming as she announced that she had been claimed as sister.

“Which just leaves Hunk.” Keith mused, watching Shiro as he kept his distance from Lance and Hunk’s gentle flight. “Because obviously Shiro isn’t about to do anything about his unresolved feelings.”

“He’d better.” Pidge snorted, crossing her arms to watch the trio above them. “I’ve got twenty bucks riding on them, and I’m not about to lose now.”

“You remember that?”

“Keith, I own your soul. Of course I remember.” Pidge rolled her eyes.

She hoped that Shiro and Lance would eventually realize that they made a good match for each other, but apparently she was doomed to wait forever, because Shiro was keeping his distance and Lance didn’t seem to notice anything out of the norm with their flock dynamics.

Idiots.

They were all idiots.

“Shiro!”

He paused, looked down, taking in her gesture to come down and land and doing so, curiosity clear in his face.

“What’s up?”

“You only have one chance to make _this_ work.” She stated bluntly, pointing up to the pair looping circles above them. “And if you don’t, you’re probably not going to have another one.”

An odd look crossed his features as he turned to look up at Lance and Hunk, and then he took flight again, making a beeline for Lance as what could only be instinct took over.

“Bet you Lance doesn’t clue in even after this.” Pidge leaned over.

“Done.”

 

* * *

 

 Lance and Hunk had a working rhythm that had beat between them from the day they’d met. Two halves of the same soul, so to speak. And while, for a time, Lance had thought that they could work, he’d come to realize that there was a lot more than just trying to be in a relationship with someone. Hunk was his best friend, his brother, his platonic soulmate. It was only natural that they had some kind of chemistry.

Of course, Shiro didn’t need to know that, but Pidge was not above emotional blackmail when it came to the happiness of her family.

Hunk realized quickly that there wasn’t the instinctive spark between them- similarly to when Shiro had initiated whatever _this_ was the first time. Instead, he continued to loop lazy circles with Lance, who looked disappointed as he slowed his more frenzied movements, a heavy sigh leaving him.

Not that he would be the first to bring it up, but Hunk was almost positive that this was a mating season kind of thing. He also didn’t think it was a coincidence that two different members of their flock initiated it on two separate occasions recently.

He hummed in comfort, arching to graze wingtips with the suddenly despondent other male, hating the look that he was wearing. Maybe he would try making that new recipe that he’d found when they got back to the castle, help him preen his wings to cheer him up.

The scent of the air was crisp in Hunk’s nose as he inhaled, reminded of flights with his mothers over the coastal shores of his home when the rainy season hit, their warm banter a soothing balm for whatever the day had brought.

Shiro had glided down to the ground- curious, Hunk glanced down, watching Pidge gesture up in their direction as she said something. The surety that Pidge sent his way over the bond a moment later had him re-evaluating his plan of trying to cheer up Lance. If the way Shiro was suddenly bounding back up into the air, he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to be in the way of whatever events were about to transpire.

He trilled nervously as he moved out of the way, making way for the eldest of their flock as he winged his way past with a sharp cry, flipping at the last moment to tap Lance’s shoulder before he continued onward, another cry echoing behind him.

Something re-ignited in Lance’s gaze at the contact- he called back with a shrill sound that Hunk wasn’t certain he’d ever heard before. The quicker, fluid movement returned as he beat his wings and tore after the larger of the pair.

Lance’s mind was full of questions- no one had answered his prompting. None of the others were the right fit for him- they hadn’t been able to match his rhythm.

But that wasn’t entirely true, was it?

There had been _someone_.

Someone who was obviously way too far out of his league, and was probably only humoring him, even though Blue’s voice scolded him quite thoroughly that _He would never do that to you, my paladin!_

Nonetheless, some part of him still reacted, and he narrowed his eyes and shook what rain he was able from his eyes as he pushed himself up, looming above Shiro as if he were a falling angel. A second later, he dropped, cutting off the other’s path, a startled noise coming from his throat. However, Shiro recovered quickly, veering sharply to deign to go on the offensive as Lance climbed further up into the sky.

Lance heaved as his wings strained against the rain, his heart pounding with the anticipation of the chase, not knowing why but understanding on the basest of levels that Shiro needed to work for it if he were to catch him. He was fast- faster than Shiro- but he knew the other would fight dirty if he absolutely needed to. A point that was proven as a hand latched onto his ankle, fingers running over the shape of it before moving up to his calf.

He jerked his leg up out of phantom memory, an irritated trill exhaling from his lungs.

Shiro’s eyes were dark, narrowed in focus as he responded in kind.

Lance scoffed before a thought occurred to him. Less a thought and more something in him urging him to simply… trust his body, actually, but a thought. A brief check at the ground proved that he was high enough to coax the other to follow confirmed that niggling thought, and without a moment’s hesitation, Lance flapped once, twice, and then arched backwards, folding his wings and freefalling past Shiro. Headlong towards the charcoal canvas laid out before them far below.

He felt, rather than saw, as Shiro paused before diving after him, quickly catching up to him and matching him for speed, barrel rolling around him with his wings pulled closely to his shoulders as his hands were tucked against his body.

_This is right._

He tilted- Shiro followed, their trajectory altered in a cohesive motion.

Below them, Allura’s hands had found their way to her mouth as she watched in awe as the pair plummeted toward them, eyes gleaming.

“Is this…?” she wondered softly as they all watched the spectacle above them.

“I’ve never actually seen one in person, but yeah. This is the human way of finding a mate.” Pidge said softly. Hunk touched her shoulder, his smile warm as he drew her in to his side.

“Our bird-instincts just kick in at some point in our lives. Usually it affects the entirety of the group if there’s a flock, but we’re obviously not meant for each other. _Those two_ , on the other hand…” he continued with a grin, pulling Keith in for a group hug as well.

“Are they going to crash?” Coran inquired, his wings flaring as the pair plummeted toward the ground.

“No.” Keith shook his head. “Wait for it.”

Coran looked like he would much rather go and rescue the two paladins who seemed intent on instant death, but managed to restrain himself, moving closer to Allura instead to shield her from what could have been the weather or the potential bloodbath of two of their flock turning into pulverised nothing on the hard ground.

The thing about the “human way” as it were, was that humans seemed to enjoy the most death-defying things they could think of and then finding something even more extreme to try. Their tests for potential mates were no different.

Honestly, it could have been anything. But apparently, Lance needed to test Shiro in a way that Hunk had only heard about from his Mama when she and Mom were courting each other. And that, as evidenced by his two flock mates rapidly gaining ground _on_ the ground, was a trust fall. Both sides of the pair had to read the body language of the other to discern when to pull up, or they would end up killing themselves on the unforgiving ground.

Lance’s lighter wing flicked, changing trajectory again- Shiro moved to accommodate him as he grabbed onto Lance’s forearms, bringing his forehead in to touch Lance’s before closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

On unspoken command, they parted seamlessly mere feet from the grass, the wind nearly flattening Pidge were she not pressed against Hunk, beginning to shiver from the chilled rain that had long since drenched them all.

“Sweet quiznak.” Coran managed, watching in renewed awe as Shiro and Lance vaulted back up into the sky, their movements slowing and growing more lazy, tired chirps, whistles and trills bouncing back and forth between them and the remainder of their flock on the ground. “And you humans do this to find mates?”

“Some do it for fun.” Keith shrugged, struggling not to smirk at how quickly the blood rushed out of the Altean’s face.

“How in quiznak have you lot survived this long?” he sputtered.

“Sheer will, I think.” He said thoughtfully, blinking when Hunk moved to greet the pair as they descended, the sound of the rain still a soothing background noise.

“That was amazing.” Shiro laughed breathlessly, pushing his forelock back as he panted, whisps of steam rising off of him in waves as he shifted his wings in an attempt to get more of the rain to cool off. Lance looked just as exhilarated, nearly bouncing as he shook off his wings and hair briefly before turning his attention to the rest of the group.

“You guys should have tried that, too!”

“Nope. I have a hard enough time trying to survive Yellow when he decides to dive at the ground. Knowing it’s me would probably only make it worse.” Hunk denied immediately. “Besides, I like the ground. Preferably under me, when I’m not flying. No, not the same as when you freefall and nearly give me a heart attack, Lance.”

“Pidge?” Lance tried next.

“Still small. Still learning to fly. You’re supposed to be the good example in my life.” She deadpanned.

“Oh, come on! Keith?”

“Didn’t feel like it.” He shrugged.

“You guys suck.” The young man pouted, sticking his tongue out at them, arms crossing over his chest.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Pidge rolled her eyes. “Now can we please get back to the lions and the castle? I’m freezing and my toes went numb like, ten minutes ago.”

“You should have said something!” Hunk squawked, immediately going into his _protective-older-brother-slash-maternal_ state of mind. Scooping her into his arms, he spread his wings in such a way that looked entirely uncomfortable for him, but managed to keep most of the water off of their smallest flock mate. “You and I are going to go find the biggest towel and blanket ever, and then I’m making _cocoa_.”

The group dispersed into their regular banter and began walking back towards their lions- in Allura and Coran’s case, the pod that they had piloted down.

Shiro and Lance shot subtle but not quite subtle enough glances back and forth at one another, both thinking along the same train of thought. The mental bond between the flock sang with contentment and the lingering remnants of adrenaline, but between them alone, a faint hesitation pulled them apart. By now, Shiro had realized that maybe he didn’t just see Lance as a teammate, as a member of their flock. Pidge made a good point, but despite that and everything else, his doubts continued. Lance didn’t even seem conscious of the fact that they seemed to be glacially gravitating towards one another.

Or at least he was.

He wasn’t really sure what to make of that thought.

“Shiro! Come tell Keith that I could totally take him on in a no holds barred wrestling match!” Pidge called back to him from her place in Hunk’s arms. Keith had somehow gravitated under the large mottled wing, and he scowled at Pidge as she waved him over. “I’ll have you know that Matt lost to me every single time!”

“Because you cheated.” He called back.

“Damn straight! Now come tell Keith that the same can happen to him!”

He shook his head even as he picked up the pace to keep up with Hunk’s larger gait, not noticing the sharp gaze that Lance had trained on him.

Lance’s lips pursed, and he averted his gaze, thoughts cluttered. He needed to sort through all of this, and soon, or there was a distinct possibility he would go crazy.

Hunk. He would ask Hunk, later.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I damn near had a heart attack when I realized that it's been so long since I updated, and I am so, so sorry that I let this work die. I can't exactly apologize and say it won't happen again, considering that I do have a full time job and writers block is a close nemesis of mine, but I do pledge to make a genuine attempt to post more often! 
> 
> This is basically just fluff and doesn't have much to do with the plot, but it's something!

True to form, they were all drenched and leaving heavy trails of water behind them when the group made it back to the castle. Pidge was shivering fiercely despite being cradled in Hunk’s arms, Hunk looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Keith looked… unimpressed. Shiro, Lance, and the pair of Alteans were the only ones who didn’t seem affected- at least outwardly- by the amount of liquid that they had been drenched by. Shiro would admit, under pressure, that he wasn’t entirely a fan of the goosebumps littering his arm and other visible flesh.

The decontamination chamber made quick work of rinsing the group in warm water and then blowing them to a near dry state. However- and even the Alteans could admit- they never had managed to figure out how to calibrate the systems so that their wings wouldn’t be sent into such a state of disarray following decontamination.

Despite this, the humans of the group were still shivering as they congregated to the kitchen, where Hunk quickly got to work whipping up his space cocoa. Which, surprisingly, actually tasted like hot cocoa from home.

There was a silent agreement to never ask how the process went. Odds were it was made from things they wouldn’t want to know about in detail.

Whilst Hunk was busy puttering around the kitchen, Pidge vanished to collect a small hoard of blankets and comfortable objects, which she somehow balanced neatly in her arms when she returned, distributing blankets and pillows to the flock before settling in the seat nearest Hunk, fingers clutching the edges of her blanket possessively. Her wings had, at this point, completely fluffed up and dried at all odd angles, but she didn’t seem to care too much about it. She was much more focused on stopping the shivering. Rain, as she had somehow forgotten, chilled to the bone if one was out in it for too long.

Keith didn’t seem to be holding up much better, if his tiny sneezes were any indication.

Shiro looked strangely content as he reclined in his chair, the dark blanket Pidge had draped around his shoulders moved to his lap as his large wings draped along the floor.

It was rare to see Shiro looking so relaxed, but to be honest, it had been a while since really any of them had had time to themselves as a flock. Being defenders of the universe tended to take away the focus from their much needed flock bonding to the planets in distress that they needed to help.

Comfortable silence provided a warm haze in the backs of all their minds, contentment and affection rippling from one person to the next. Lance in particular seemed to be the most relaxed of them all- he was basically a puddle of content as he leaned his head on his folded arms on the table, his wings draped along the ground and part of Pidge’s lap.

It didn’t go unnoticed that Pidge gently began preening what feathers were in her lap, or that Lance further relaxed at the contact.

Hunk tapped Lance’s shoulder as he brought him a mug of the cocoa, his thumb rubbing a circle before he retreated and allowed the thinner boy to unfurl and grab at the steaming liquid.

“Thanks Hunk.” He said, voice rough.

“No problem, buddy.” The larger replied with a hum, finally taking his own seat next to Keith. Small as he was, Keith was definitely chilled, and wasted almost no time in not-so-subtly inching into Hunk’s side for warmth, the blanket Pidge had tossed at him a fluffy burrito around his shoulders and torso.

Coran smiled gently behind his mug of cocoa, his heart feeling content as the comfortable silence in the room was punctured only by the sounds of the occasional sips from the group.

Allura leaned into his side, her wings dropped to the most at ease Coran could recall since her childhood. He didn’t say anything to disturb the moment- merely shifted so that his wing draped around her like a protective blanket, continuing to savor the moment of peace within their flock.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hunk?”

Hunk blinked at the quiet voice, poking his head out from his nest from where he had been reading an Altean manual on engineering, wings hardly flicking at the sudden intrusion. The light from the hall illuminated Lance’s form, and the other male shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the invitation to enter his space.

“What’s up?” he inquired softly, shifting to sit more comfortably, his posture automatically becoming more accommodating for his friend.

“Could I ask you a question…?”

Lance’s shoulders hunched down, his wings dropping down.

“Of course. Come on.” Hunk invited, moving over to make room on the mattress for the other. Lance approached cautiously- it reminded him of the first days after he had returned from the Galra. So wary and on edge, always with that haunted look in his eye.

When he finally settled in, Hunk carefully engulfed him in an all-encompassing embrace, wings adjusted in such a way so that Lance wouldn’t feel trapped, noting that Lance’s skin still felt slightly chilled to the touch.

He didn’t ask what Lance wanted, knowing that eventually, he would speak on his own terms.

“Do you think it might be possible that Shiro might be my match?”

The words were said so softly that Hunk almost missed them.

He hummed deeply in his chest, gently rubbing circles into Lance’s shoulder as he tried to think of a way to answer the vulnerable question. How was he supposed to react, firstly? It wasn’t exactly a secret that the other members of their flock could see the chemistry, but following the last two performances that Shiro and Lance had initiated, there was little doubt that they were a good match. However, their distance emotionally and personably was another matter.

Despite living together for however long, there were still a great many things that they didn’t know about one another. Keith and Shiro were close, as were Pidge, Hunk and Lance, and that wasn’t even taking into account the Alteans onboard the castle.

“I think that you two could be a good match.” Hunk finally said. “It’s one thing when our instincts tell us something and another when our brains say another.”

“Even though I’m broken?”

“Lance, you’re not broken.” Hunk said firmly.

“I am though, Hunk. I’ve been pulled apart and put back together with parts that don’t match.” He shuddered, a low sob rasping in his throat. “They took my arm and turned me into their version of Frankenstein’s monster.”

The reminder of the arm was sobering- Hunk remembered Lance when he’d crawled into his nest and sobbed into his chest about his shoulder and arm having to be removed _again_ or risk a serious infection. The only question was a matter of when it would happen.

Hunk’s thoughts turned inward again. He and Pidge were engineering things that would make Lance and Shiro’s lives easier, make the darkness that lingered at the edges of their minds brighten even slightly.

“You’re not broken.” He said again, firmer. “You’re just as cracked and worn as the rest of us, but you are _not_ broken. What we’ve been through- Voltron, getting involved in a war that we didn’t even know existed- none of it broke us. Somehow we’ve managed to make it work. And yeah, it’s hard. It’s really damn hard, Lance, to get up and know that we can’t go home until Zarkon is probably dead and the Galra taken care of. That we’re probably never really going to be able to be home because Voltron is always going to be needed. There’s _always_ going to be another planet to save. But we’re going to do it because we’re a family. A flock. And I know that Shiro would _never_ think that you’re broken.”

He caught the briefest flickers of emotion from Lance, all of them conflicting. Hunk tried to focus on sending soothing ones in return.

“Just… start from the beginning, if you do decide to try.” Hunk finished, settling back and allowing Lance to soak in the words.

He never did reply, but Hunk could sense the thankfulness that lingered deeply within Lance’s thoughts until they dozed off together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I think we’re finally done.”

The faint light from the computer screen illuminated Pidge’s features as she leaned back, peeling her glasses off the bridge of her nose to rub between her eyes.

“Yeah.”

It had taken them a while- as in, almost three weeks of non-stop work with assistance from Coran- but they had gotten the prosthetics done. And if Coran’s other project played out, they could help Lance even further.

“They’re finally done.” She repeated.

“Now we just have to tell them that we did it.” Hunk sighed.

“You don’t think they’ll be angry that we did this without telling them, right? I mean, they both deserve better, and Lance needs this or he’ll just… not have an arm. His current one has to be removed. And Shiro can’t even look at his without triggering a flashback.”

“Pidge, it’s fine. We’re not forcing this on them. We’re just going to show them and let _them_ make the decision.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” She shook her head, a yawn cracking through her jaw as she attempted to cover her mouth. “God, I’m tired.”

“I’m going to bed. You want to come nest with me tonight?”

“That… actually sounds amazing. Carry me?”

It was hard to say no to Pidge when she looked so young and vulnerable, and Hunk in particular seemed to be susceptible to the doe eyed look that she tended to wield with ruthless efficiency.

“Yeah.” He chuckled, standing and stretching out his joints, feeling his spine realign itself with several satisfying clicks and snaps that barely even phased Pidge as she did the same in her chair. “Up we go then, Hobbit.”

“I’m meaner than Bilbo Baggins ever could be, you Tolkien nerd.” She muttered petulantly, holding her arms out and tucking her wings in as he scooped her into his arms, getting her settled with practiced ease.

“Of course.” He soothed agreeably, hitting the pad next to the doorway on his way out with his elbow, turning off the lights. “Now, food first or bed?”

“Food.” Pidge replied immediately. “You make the best food.”

“Coran doesn’t seem to think so.” Hunk sniffed primly, wings flicking in irritation.

“Coran is an alien who is at least three hundred years older than our grandparents. I wouldn’t take it terribly personally if I were you.” She deadpanned, leaning against his chest and sighing in contentment at the warmth that he was radiating. If there was one thing that Hunk would always be reliable for, it would be the sheer amount of heat that he seemed to exude without any effort. Which was so not fair, because she never seemed to be able to retain heat to save her life. She’d had to resort to hunting down the alien equivalent to woolly socks whenever they stopped in ports on the planets they liberated, considering that her toes were particularly susceptible to getting cold.

“Hmph.” Hunk grunted, quieting as he carried her through the empty halls. It occurred to him then that considering the silence, it was very likely the middle of the night in Earth time. Considering space didn’t exactly have the same time zone, the castle had been programmed to dim the lights in the halls after what would be roughly ten pm.

Of course, when one happened to be holed up in a workshop for hours on end working on prosthetics, it was difficult to keep track of the time.

“Shiro looked better today.” Pidge commented after a couple of minutes, unable to stay silent lest she fall asleep in Hunk’s arms. “I think he might have actually gotten some sleep last night.”

“Lance looked better too.” Hunk mused. “I don’t think they’ve actually realized that they’re good for each other, but they’re going to figure it out sooner or later.”

“Sooner, I hope. The anticipation might actually kill me at this rate.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that. I could be dying right now _\- oh, woe!”_

Hunk paused, staring at Pidge with a blank expression that spoke levels about what he thought of her impromptu performance.

“You are a terrible person.”

“I would never have guessed.”

“No, really.”

“Like I said- I would never have guessed. What gave me away?”

“I don’t have to feed you, you know.”

“No, but you are carrying me, and I could make it very difficult to get rid of me?”

He shook his head, already having come to the conclusion that he was not about to win this argument, but couldn’t resist digging his fingers into Pidge’s side. She squealed, writhing in his grasp in an attempt to avoid the touch, a scowl appearing on her lips.

“Cheater.”

“Love you too, Pidge.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here comes a complete 180 from the last chapter. Hope you all wanted a healthy dose of angst and the like, because you're getting three times your regular serving!

Any attempts at bringing the whole, “by the way, we made you guys prosthetics without your knowledge and now want to give them to you without being weird about it” conversation had to wait for several reasons, the first and admittedly the most prominent being that the Galra seemed to have made it their personal mission to ruin any and all plans on said subject.

The second was training.

A shit-ton of training.

With more Galra attacks, raids and the like, Allura was kicked into high gear. Thus, any time that they weren’t fending off the Galra was spent in the training deck.

Pidge was pretty sure none of them had slept more than three hours a night in about a month.

Hunk and Lance were both stress-molting, and Lance was also beginning to pluck his implanted wing again. Shiro didn’t eat much, and Keith was like a permanently vibrating ball of fluffy feathers and rage. Not terribly different from his usual behaviour, but a lot more stressful not knowing what would set him off next.

“Alright, that’s enough.” She finally huffed, throwing her training staff down on the floor and propping her hands on her hips. “And I don’t just mean of this. I mean everything that’s been going on since the Galra started this whole shit-stick. Lance and Hunk are stress-molting, for crying out loud!”

“She’s got her mom face on.” She heard Lance whisper from somewhere behind her.

Growling, she whirled on him, flaring her wings in warning before breathing deeply and centering herself. She knew she hadn’t been sleeping (at all, really) lately, but she would rather try and play nice before going for the proverbial throat.

“I know we’re all stressed out, but all of this training between missions is doing more harm than good.” She started again. “We won’t be able to stand, let alone form Voltron, and all of this is only going to cause negative reactions rather than positive ones. We need something else to do- something less strenuous, like mind melding.”

Allura blinked, pearly wings held in such a way that it perfectly conveyed her surprise and confusion at the outburst. In any other circumstance, Pidge probably would have found it hilarious, but exhaustion was far too prominent in her mind to actually appropriately comprehend it.

And just because the universe hated her, the alarms began blaring.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Pidge!”

“Fucking hell!”

“ _Pidge!”_

“Fucking _heck!_ ”

 

* * *

 

 

They all managed to make it to their lions in record time despite the fact that she was pretty sure that there was no way this could end well, and it wasn’t long before the five of them were entrenched in heavy fire.

_“Keith, watch your flank!”_

Keith, being Keith, somehow managed to pull off a whirling loop in Red that looked effortless, despite the echoes of exhaustion that they could all feel throughout their bond- it was only amplified while they were in the lions.

“Shiro, I’m going in.” Pidge said over the comm, flicking on Green’s screens and studying the scans of the massive ship directing most of the drone ships that were flocking the team. “I might be able to pull something from their system to figure out how to keep them off our tails for a while.”

_“Not alone, you’re not! Lance, go with Pidge. We’ll hold down the fort out here and follow you when we manage to make some headway.”_ Shiro ordered, pulling Black out of a steep dive and continuing to lay waste to a full fleet of ships that were stubbornly sticking to his every move.

_“Copy that.”_

Blue managed to peel out of the fray to follow Pidge as she skillfully ploughed through the ranks, distributing mass chaos as she went. Of course, she may have half crushed one of her wings when she was hit by some heavy shrapnel, but other than that the cloaking system kicked in mid-explosion and used it to her advantage. Behind her, she heard Lance curse as he engaged his own cloaking system- thank the gods above that she had had the foresight to finally share her invention with the rest of the paladins, or this whole thing would be made much more difficult.

_“Okay, Pidge. How do you want to do this?”_ Lance’s voice crackled through her helmet. _“There’s the good old fashioned give them hell and bust through the front door approach, or we could dock somewhere and fight our way through.”_

“I’m thinking option B.” she grunted as she swerved to avoid a drone from colliding with Green. “Either way, they’re going to know we’re coming in. Two lions going missing aren’t exactly normal for us unless we’re trying to board them.”

_“Alright. Do you have the specs so we’ll be close to the communications center?”_

“I’m almost insulted that you need to ask.” She snorted, firing off a couple of blasts to deter a ship that seemed intent on figuring out where she was hiding. “We’re heading for the wing closest to us. There’s a maintenance panel there that we can access, and it’s near enough to the communications deck that we shouldn’t have to fight too hard to get there.”

_“Fantastic. I’ve got your back, little sis.”_

The flippant tone had her breath catching in her throat, and she managed to hold it together long enough to grin and shoot back,

_“_ You too, bro.”

Silence fell over the comms as they moved in, docking seamlessly under the panel that Pidge had pointed out before ejecting herself from Green, making sure that her wings were pinned tightly against her back so that the unnerving sensation of empty space wouldn’t touch them. Behind her, she could hear the low rumble of Blue doing the same. Trusting Lance to follow her lead, she got to work on the panel, quickly hacking into the frame and getting it open, offering Lance a hand to haul him in before closing it again.

Thankfully, the hall that they found themselves was deserted, but the blaring alarms and commands overhead were still repeating, so they knew that they weren’t far from the action.

“You ready?” she asked, trying not to think of the parallels that her mind was conjuring. Nothing was going to happen this time. She knew that he had lost a wing now, and Lance could fly again. He would be fine.

A brush of concern at the edge of her mind.

“I’m ready whenever you are, Pidgeon.”

“It’s Pidge.” She smirked, glad for the familiarity. “Let’s go raise some hell.”

Bayard at the ready, she slunk down the hall, her systems automatically taking in as much data as they could and transmitting it across her HUD as they came to the end. Glancing around the corner, she was both relieved and wary that no one was around. Usually, the communications deck was the most densely populated other than the hangars. That it wasn’t the case now definitely raised some red flags in her books.

_“What’s going on, Pidge.”_

“I don’t like this. Usually the communications hub is busy. Any hallway should be patrolled by excess personnel or commanding officers, but there’s nothing. I’m not even registering anything on this sector.” She muttered, going for her screen on her wrist and tapping at the specs she had pulled up. “Just be careful.”

_“Careful. Got it.”_ He repeated, bayard glowing as he raised it into a ready position. _“I can be careful.”_

“You slipped over a sock this morning. You’re the epitome of careful.” She sniped back, moving carefully down the new hall and continually checking her feed. “Shiro, how is everything looking out there?”

_“We’re doing okay out here. Make sure you get in and get out as quickly as possible.”_

The response was followed by a grunt and a curse word that would have made her ears burn if she hadn’t said worse things offhandedly every other day.

“Got it. Keep an eye on the ship from out there. Something seems off.” She replied.

“ _So how much do you want to bet it’s a trap?”_ Keith finally asked.

“I am not taking that bet, Kogane. We’re still holding out on the other one.” Pidge snorted. “But I agree, it definitely seems like something they’ve been planning. Good thing I’ve got back up on me in case this goes south.”

_“Please tell me it’s not another bomb.”_ Hunk groaned. “ _Please, please let it not be another bomb. The scorch marks were almost impossible to get off of our armor.”_

“Fine. I admit nor deny anything.” She shrugged. “Heads up Lance, we’ve got company.”

_“Roger.”_

The hall was echoing with the alarms and the rattling of the ship as it took fire. Neither of them so much as breathed, Pidge glancing down at her screen as the blip moved closer. Too late, she realized that the speed that it was approaching wasn’t natural, but the words died in her throat as the prickling violet of druidic lightning signalled their company’s presence.

“Well, well, well. What a surprise. Little Paladin, I didn’t expect you to return to me so readily.”

Lance’s breath obviously hitched at the words.

Pidge let out a wordless snarl as the words and Lance’s reaction told her everything that she needed to know. This was the witch that had hurt Lance.

“Ah ah. Green Paladin, I would not get too close. I brought something that you might like, after all.”

A snap of her fingers and another figure appeared in a pile of tousled, dirty feathers and prison garb.

Pidge felt her heart stop in her chest.

“Matt?”

 

* * *

 

 

When the comms went on Lance and Pidge’s end, it was immediate silence. So much so that Shiro didn’t notice for the next handful of harrowing minutes as he and the remaining two paladins drove back as much of the Galra that they could. The Castle of Lions was providing support, but there was only so much that Allura and Coran could do without jeopardizing themselves and the Castle of Lions in the process. It wasn’t until Hunk tried calling Pidge that the silence became obvious.

_“Guys? I can’t hear Pidge or Lance.”_

Dread immediately pooled itself in Shiro’s gut, his heart leaping into his throat as he realized that the only sounds were from Keith, Hunk, and Coran. Nothing from Lance or Pidge.

“Pidge, Lance, do you copy?”

Nothing.

“Pidge. Lance. Do you copy!” he tried again, failing to keep the concern from his tone. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but there was something about the thought of Lance or Pidge being in danger that set something pacing in his chest. Panic, definitely- the last time that the pair in question had been separated, they had almost lost Lance.

“Coran, I need you to see if you can re-establish communication with Pidge or Lance- we’ve lost contact with them.” He ordered, a renewed sense of urgency to his movements as he piloted the Black Lion through the masses of ships. It seemed as though the Galra were never ending, and with only the three lions and the castle attacking, the numbers felt even greater than usual.

_“Copy that, Number One!”_

“Please be okay.” Shiro closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as Black rumbled, fusing their minds together and roaring as they dove headfirst back into the fray.

 

* * *

 

 

“Matt?”

The figure on the floor groaned at the name.

“I had always wondered what tenacity your species carried to allow them to live through such fascinating circumstances.” Haggar crooned, grinding her heel down on the person’s hand. “First the Champion, and then the Blue Paladin. I simply had to try another specimen in order to be sure. Unfortunately, the other did not survive, but this one did.”

She cocked her head to one side, curiously assessing the pair of paladins with pale amber eyes.

Lance’s breath shuddered out of his body, and Pidge instinctively moved closer to him, wings flaring in a direct warning to back the hell off despite the possibility of her brother being _right there_.

“Fascinating.” Haggar murmured.

“Matt?” Pidge called out again, refusing to budge from Lance’s side even as her mental divisions began making themselves clear. Lance was never going to be taken back by the Galran witch- not while she was alive and kicking. But if that was really Matt, there was nothing that she wouldn’t do to get him back.

“Katie?”

The voice was weak, and the entire image was so wrong, but that was no one but her brother.

“Oh God, Matt. It’s me. It’s Katie.”

And there were tears- tears she couldn’t afford but couldn’t help, because that was _Matt_.

“So touching.” Haggar cooed, and everything in Pidge wanted to shiver at the sound. By the way that Lance further stiffened, it was a sound he was all too familiar with.

“Lance, I need you to focus.” Pidge said as soothingly as she could, one wing brushing against his own, unable to take her gaze off of the witch and her brother. “I need you with me for just a little longer, okay?”

For a long, heart stopping moment, Pidge feared that Lance was trapped in a flashback. But then, blessedly, he exhaled shakily and straightened, his bayard aimed straight at Haggar.

“You got it, Pidgeon.”

“Little Paladin, you think you can hold me at bay?” Haggar hissed, flexing claws that glittered with live lightning dancing between her fingers. “I thought I had taught you better than that.”

“Pretty sure, _puta.”_ Lance bared his teeth, wings flaring in an impressive arc that had even Pidge’s neck prickling. “You want to try getting gutted this time?”

Haggar snarled, and in a flurry of motion Pidge was knocked aside as the pair collided in a mass of fury and heavy handed blows.

“Pidge, go!” Lance roared as he slammed Haggar against a wall, his bayard already dropped in favor of going at the druid with his bare hands.

She snarled something that was most certainly not in most verbal repertoire and skidded over to Matt’s side, carefully maneuvering limbs and wings so that she could get a good look at any injuries.

“Katie?” he repeated as she gently ran her fingers along a nasty scar that ran down the side of his temple to his chin, eyes trying to focus on her but clearly struggling. So a likely concussion, as well as other scars and injuries that she couldn’t see.

“Are you hurt?” she demanded, gaze darting back up as Lance and Haggar continued their brawl. There really wasn’t a better word to describe it, despite the liberal use of the violet lightning in close range, as well as Lance’s wings and bayard, which he seemed to have reclaimed in the last minute or so.

“Chest- think I broke a rib or two.” He grunted blearily. “And my wrist.”

“And a concussion? That’s not terrible.” She commented, blinking as her systems began beeping in earnest. Cursing, she brought up the intel that was scrolling across her HUD, a fouler one spewing forth when she realized that whatever Galra were on the ship seemed to be heading their way.

“Mom would wash your mouth out with soap if she heard that.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kinda in space. Hard for her to get at us up here, isn’t it?” Pidge retorted, working on getting her brother to his feet. “I need you to get up- do you think you can fight?”

“I think so. My head’s not spinning anymore.”

“Great. Here’s what I need you to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“I am seriously getting sick of all these damn drones!”_ Keith growled as he tore through another fleet, Red’s tail flicking in irritation as he soared past Hunk, taking out the couple of larger fighters that had him pinned. _“Coran, we need to get in contact with Pidge and Lance yesterday!”_

_“I almost have it!”_ the Altean snapped back in his unusually cheerful tone. At this point, Hunk was less sure it was a genuine cheer and more certain that he was trying to hide his stress as much as possible from the others. _“It seems as though it’s the work of a druid- if you can get onto the ship, I believe you would cancel out the frequency that the block is on and re-establish communications. The only problem is getting to the ship.”_

“That would be great and all, but we’re kind of pinned down here, Coran.” Shiro ground out, bacing himself against another blast. “Do you and the princess have a plan?”

_“If by plan you mean another ship, then yes, Shiro.”_ Allura confirmed as the castle deposited a fighter ship of their own. _“I’m here to assist you the best I can.”_

“Princess, it’s too dangerous!”

_“You are my paladins! If I did nothing, then I am princess to none.”_ Allura snapped back, firing her thrusters and gracefully beginning to weave amongst the purple ships and distributing destruction along the way. “ _I refuse to allow any of you to fall under my watch.”_

“In that case, welcome aboard.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance was holding back Haggar the best he could, but with the arrival of the rest of the Galra drones and soldiers, uncertainty had begun to creep back into his thoughts. Pidge and her brother had established themselves further down the hall, backs to the wall so that they could begin their march forward.

A stab of pain through his mind had him gasping back into the present, swinging his bayard up and clipping the witch with the barrel along her cheek. His wings he ensured to keep pinned to his back, no matter what the reason. His deep set fear could only be held back by so much, after all.

“Pitiful.” She sniffed disdainfully, lunging forward and pinning him against the wall, claws gleaming. “Do you remember what I did the last time I had you under my hands like this? Such delicious screams you gave to me, Little Paladin.”

He froze at the words, the hallway disappearing for a blink of an eye and returning just as quickly.

“I pried your flesh from your bones, your organs from your body.” Haggar hissed, lightning crackling to life at her fingertips as she dug deeply into his collar, pain exploding across his vision as he cried out. “I tore your pretty feathered limb to pieces and pieced you together any way I desired.”

A ripple of dark light flashed behind her, the shadow of massive black wings appearing in shadow across his face as he coughed and sucked in a lungful of air.

Again, he pushed back at her, toppling them both as he shot his bayard in close quarters at her, only to encounter nothing as he came into contact with the metal floor.

“Pitiful. And you were the next chosen to be my Champion.” She tutted, appearing behind him, hand wrapping around the back of his neck as more lightning pulsed through his limbs. His vision blurred at the edges the longer it held out, but he could do nothing as his wings splayed out in a desperate attempt to free himself.

Still, it never ended, pain that pulsed through every nerve into places that he only barely remembered in flashes of agony and white hot anger.

And then it vanished as a blast rocked them off their feet, a howled war cry in the air as a red and black blur crashed into the witch. Lance crumpled immediately, boneless as the aftermath worked its way through his body. Something caught him, gentle arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him close as he tried to suck a full breath into his battered body.

Shudders wracked him, his whole body spasming, the sounds of battle muted around him thanks to a high ringing in his ears.

Things blurred out after that, the oddity of it all passing right through his cotton filled mind. He thought he heard someone yelling for Pidge, tried to push himself upright with a slurred excuse only to give out a moment later, the same warm arms catching him once again as dark wings surrounded him.

His next lucid thought came when the arms shifted, moving to behind his legs and lifting.

A whine of pain and protest escaped him at the movement, his cramped muscles and nerves unhappy with the new movement and stretching.

“Hold on, Lance. I’ve got you.”

“Shiro?” he managed to murmur tiredly.

“I’ve got you.” He replied.

“Haggar-“

“Don’t worry about that right now.”

Shiro sounded worried. Lance frowned at that thought. He hated it when Shiro was unhappy. It usually meant that he was upset, or injured and didn’t want them to know…

“I’m not injured.”

Oh.

Apparently he had been thinking out loud.

Blinking, Lance honed in on Shiro’s features, doing his best to ignore how the details swam in and out of focus.

“’M sorry.” He managed, head lolling limply against Shiro’s shoulder. “’M gonna sleep.”

“No. Lance, you stay awake. Pidge will kill me if she gets out of the pod to find out you died.”

Something about Shiro’s tone unsettled him. Lance pried his eyes open again, frowning.

“Shiro-“

“Lance, save your energy.”

“No.”

Shiro’s brows pinched at his tone.

“I think… you might be my other half. And Hunk would kill me if I passed out and didn’t tell you ‘cause I might die.” He continued, ending his speech with a weak nuzzle into the larger man’s shoulder. “So I gotta… stay… awake…”

His eyes slipped closed to the sound of a panicked shout.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence and death. My go to writing music seems to have influenced me a bit more than I intended. 
> 
> I'm not happy with this chapter, but I give it to you anyway.

Pidge felt like she was floating as she coughed and crawled out from underneath a pile of collapsed wall, one wing feeling like it was on fire as Keith threw himself at Haggar with a war cry that sent a shiver down the back of her neck.

Whatever the witch had done, she hadn’t been able to take a step forward as she pinned Lance against the ground, poisonous lightning flashing between her fingers and the back of Lance’s neck. It painted a scene straight out of a painting she recalled seeing in a museum as a kid. The way that his wings stretched out, the machinery in his prosthetics snapping and popping under the force of the electricity and his features twisted into a feral scream.

But now-

_Oh_ , now she was ready to take down this bitch once and for all.

“Keith!” she barked, readying her bayard as the paladin and the witch traded blows. It was obvious that Keith was better suited to taking on the druid- his bayard was a blade rather than a rifle, and therefore allowed him more room in order to get a hit in. “Duck!”

Distantly, she was aware that Shiro and Hunk were attending to Lance, pulling him out of the way and back towards the massive hole in the side of the wall that they had created- likely thanks to one of her and Hunk’s concentrated chemical concoctions- but her attention was focused solely on the creature that had caused one of her flock harm.

Keith, bless his heart, actually thought to listen- for the best, considering that Pidge threw herself over him to try and land a kick on the witch. It didn’t land, her leg grasped firmly as Haggar’s claws sunk in, violet lightning crackling into her skin and causing her to cry out as she was thrown to the side.

“You paladins.” She hissed, moving to approach Keith. “Always a thorn in my side despite your usefulness to my research. No matter. Once I have rid Lord Zarkon of your pitiful presence, I will present him with Voltron and keep you as my personal experiments.”

“I hate to break it do you, but that’s not going to happen.” Pidge growled as she tried to shake off the residual ache in her leg. In the back of her mind, she tried not to dwell on how much more it must have hurt Lance with that kind of electricity coursing throughout the entirety of his body.

Instead, she reached for her belt, pulling out a small band that she clicked out into a baton. At the end sparked a pale blue glow. Hours of effort, sleepless nights laboring over how she could make the witch who hurt Lance suffer even slightly for everything that she had put him through- put all of them through, however directly or indirectly.

Keith was holding off the druid with admirable skill, his features twisted into a snarl as he managed to clip her shoulder as he was driven back with her bare hands. His bayard sliced through the air with a noticeable whistle, the force behind his blows brutal. His wings were bristling to their fullest, big and black and formidable in and of themselves.

_“-aladins! Retreat! Zarkon’s personal fleet- you- loca-n!”_ Allura’s voice came through her comm, static puncturing the words. _“This was- al- trap!”_

“We have a chance to end this!” Pidge snapped back, Keith grunting an agreement as he parried a blow that would have likely torn out his throat. “We can’t pull back now!”

Haggar grinned, baring teeth that gleamed in the dim violet lighting, and landed her first solid hit on Keith, her claws sinking into one of his wings and illuminating with sickly lightning, feathers scattering as he wrenched back with a pained cry.

The castle must have re-established a connection between itself and their helmets again, Pidge thought as static and chatter caused her to flinch. The news that Zarkon himself might be arriving caused a sickening lurch in her stomach, but there was a force of rage that surged through her at the thought of retreating and losing the witch _again_.

But she had a chance.

One chance.

Launching herself at the druid, she ducked the claws that came at her face, blocking with her bayard in one hand even as she pressed the baton against Haggar’s side and activated it.

“ _Now, Matt!”_

Matt threw himself out of the way as the entire hall lit up with a blinding blue light, a shriek of agony piercing their ears as the druid writhed, clawing at the baton that had suddenly pierced into her flesh. Keith retreated to Pidge’s side, holding one arm carefully and his wings cocked at an angle that wouldn’t agitate his injuries.

“What the hell is _that?_ ” he yelled over the crackling of the baton, the blaring of the alarms and the ominous rumbling of the ship around them.

“That’s called Karma.” She replied darkly, staring impassively as a line of blue electricity established itself between Haggar and the makeshift circle that Matt had placed the other batons in. “I reverse-engineered Shiro’s arm and Lance’s wing and figured out the specific currents that her magic runs on via quintessence. Basically, she’s getting fried from the inside out.”

Haggar staggered in their direction, but Pidge was ready. Bayard at the ready, she stepped forward to meet the druid, driving the triangular blade upward into her chest and twisting ruthlessly.

“This is why you don’t fuck with my flock, _bitch_.” She bared her teeth, ignoring the errant flickering sparks that burned her skin through the cracks and holes in her paladin armor, watching the pained twist of Haggar’s lips as she finally collapsed backward, the entirety of her body glowing dark violet as it seemed to just curl inward on itself. Within moments, the last remnants of pale blue and dark purple died down, nothing left of the witch save for an empty robe.

_“Paladins, do you copy? Something strange is happening to the fleet- they are scattering!”_ Coran chimed over the comm.

_“It’s almost like they’re flying blind.”_ Shiro grunted as a loud rumble rocked the ship. _“Pidge- Keith- get out of there! The ship is about to go down!”_

“Come on, Matt!” Pidge yelled, reaching out for her brother as he stumbled towards the pair of paladins, Keith warily brandishing his bayard in case any lingering Galra attacked as they retreated. However, it seemed as though their luck was finally taking a turn for the better- no one confronted them as they made it back to the lions, Pidge pushing Matt through first to make sure that she couldn’t lose him again. Nothing really seemed to feel real, everything tinged in an odd haze that she would turn her attention to once they were back in the castle.

_“We’ve just received word from a rebel on one of Zarkon’s ships- Zarkon is dead!”_

_“How?”_

_“Impossible!”_

“It must have been the witch.” Pidge commented as Green turned toward the Castle of Lions. “After she died, whatever magic she used to keep herself must have severed itself from Zarkon too.”

_“Whatever it was, we can address it later. There are still plenty of Galra who would like to see us dead.”_ Allura ordered, her smaller Altean craft continuing its path as she wove amongst the ships. “ _Shiro, Hunk- status on Lance.”_

_“It’s not looking good.”_ Hunk said, worry clear in his voice. _“He’s not responding.”_

_“Get him back to the castle_ now _. Coran, meet them in the hangar. I’ll be there in a moment. Pidge, Keith, cover fire and get back to your hangars.”_

Pidge made a sound that might have been an affirmative, Hunk’s words resounding in her mind. Lance couldn’t die. He couldn’t die now, not after everything that they had been through. But she had seen the strength that Haggar had used against him, how much pain Lance had been in.

_You can’t take him yet._ She thought desperately to whatever god might be listening.

_Not yet._

 

* * *

 

 

There was something strangely peaceful about being in a strange limbo of not quite conscious but not unconscious.

He could, for example, distantly register that his entire body felt as though every nerve, every muscle, and every bone were being ripped apart and on fire simultaneously. But it was more as if he were feeling it from another person’s perspective rather than his own. A layer of something cushioning him, so to speak.

He could feel his heart pulsing weakly in his chest. His lungs struggling to take in air. The pulsing ache in his limbs and the agony in his prosthetics.

But he saw none of that.

Inhale.

He could imagine the scent of the ocean in the air.

Exhale.

The gulls above him, wheeling and calling as they rode the thermals.

Inhale.

Their mismatched one story house, painted cheerful blues and greens, the boards lovingly crafted by his father when he built it from the ground up. Supposedly, the colors were to represent his _mama’s_ eyes and the ocean that lay beyond their doorstep.

Exhale.

He could see his _mama_ , his _abuela_ standing next to her in the doorway. It was like he had never left. The ocean rustling softly against the sand, the breeze tousling his hair, the birds above him and the smell of salt.

“ _Mama_.”

_“Ay, Mijo.”_ She tutted softly, holding her arms out for him. “ _What have you done to yourself now?”_

It was like coming home, being embraced by his mother. Her soft features, her beautiful wings surrounding him with gentle warmth. His _abuela_ touched his shoulder in silent comfort, smiling in that strange knowing way she always had.

_“You can’t stay with us just yet, mijo.”_ She said firmly. _“Your friends need you more than we do right now.”_

He frowned, beginning to shake his head, but his abuela was having none of it as she pulled him from his mother’s embrace and cuffed him soundly with one of her solid wings.

_“None of that.”_ She scolded. _“You can’t confess and then die on your other half.”_

_“Your Shiro is quite the catch.”_ His _mama_ smiled. _“He will be good to you.”_

A distant rumble of thunder had the back of his neck prickling, but he felt at ease with his mother and grandmother standing with him.

_“We’re so proud of you, mijo.”_ His _abuela_ quirked her lips. _“Just don’t forget about us back on Earth, yes?”_

“ _What do you mean?”_

Neither answered him as the beach shimmered and disappeared.

Inhale.

His heart stuttered.

Exhale.

_“Don’t you dare die on me, Lance!”_

Pressure on his chest, pain. Sharp pain that pierced right through the fog that enveloped him and caused him to choke on it as he tried to hold on to that quiet for just a little longer.

_“Lance, please!”_

That sounded like Shiro, but it couldn’t have been. He had never heard Shiro sound like that before.

_“_ Breathe _, damn it!”_

A force pressed down on him, something pressing against his lips and warm air being forced into his tired lungs.

More pressure- he couldn’t breathe.

_He couldn’t breathe_.

 

* * *

 

 

Everything was moving too quickly and too slowly all at once as Shiro desperately tried to get Lance to breathe again. There were too many things sparking in his arm and wing, too much blood from a wound to the side of his neck and somewhere else that he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Lance!” he barked, fear festering in his chest as he felt for a pulse, cursing when he didn’t. Immediately, he started compressions, internally counting as he nearly threw himself downward onto Lance’s too still chest. Something cracked- likely a rib- but Shiro knew that that was always a risk during CPR.

He paused, checked for a pulse again.

“Lance, please!” he pleaded helplessly, counting compressions again. “ _Breathe_ , damn it!”

He leaned over his still body, pressing their lips together as he tried to blow air into still lungs. Every inch of him was praying to something, someone, anything that he would breathe. Just one small breath, his pulse beneath his fingers as he checked again.

The Black Lion jolted as they landed, but Shiro didn’t dare pull himself away until arms were dragging him off of the ground and away from Lance.

“ _NO!”_ he nearly shrieked. “No, don’t!”

There was a voice in his ear, saying something, but he couldn’t focus on it, barely breathing himself as Coran and Hunk surrounded Lance with wings and equipment he didn’t recognize. He was being pulled away from him, away from the lion. He struggled, but the grip around him was like iron, pinning his wings and his arms from getting free.

Someone was screaming.

It was him.

He couldn’t think around anything other than the fact that Lance wasn’t breathing.

Lance wasn’t breathing.

He was dead.

“Shiro, breathe. I need you to breathe.” Allura’s voice filtered in, speaking soothingly. “Coran and Hunk are doing everything they can. Lance is breathing. He’s breathing. I need _you_ to breathe now.”

He was panting, short gasps that were only serving to further distress him and prevent him from getting a solid breath in. Shakily, Shiro managed to pull a full breath in, his lungs thanking him for the small mercy despite the heavy shudders that were wracking his whole body.

“You’re safe now. Lance will be alright. But you’re hurt as well. We need to get you looked at.”

He wasn’t injured- he hadn’t been present for the battle against the druid.

“Shiro, stay with me.” Allura soothed, loosening her grip on him slightly.

He was trying, but he couldn’t breathe and the edges of his vision were darkening quickly as the adrenaline in his system began to wane.

They were in the main hangar. He could see the Black Lion, see Coran and Hunk lifting something down the ramp, but his legs gave out from underneath him before he could do anything.

“Shiro?”

He closed his eyes, wondering why he was suddenly so dizzy. Everything ached.

“Shiro!”

Allura was crouching next to him, concern furrowing her brows as his eyes fluttered closed. Exhaustion and pain lined every limb, and his fear for Lance was still forefront in his mind, but it seemed his body had other plans.

He registered Allura scooping him into her arms, peeling him from his armor and settling him into one of the healing pods, though he wasn’t certain how they had managed to get from the hangar to the pods so quickly.

“ _Rest, Shiro.”_

And then the cold surrounded him and he closed his eyes again.


	12. Chapter 12

They had won.

Haggar was dead. Zarkon, by some mysterious means, was also dead.

Hunk couldn’t help but think that it had cost them all too much to do so.

He seemed to be the only one who had avoided injury in the fight- at least avoiding anything serious. Pidge had dislocated a wing and a shoulder, and had small electrical burns littering her torso and face as she peeled off her flight suit slowly, tension in every limb as she watched the healing pods go to work on Lance and Shiro.

Matt was sitting as physically close as was possible given his sister’s injured wing and shoulder, carefully helping her extract herself from the material with a furrowed brow. He’d already been given a pass on his concussion- thankfully it was only a minor one, and thus not serious enough to be warranted a stay in a healing pod. Everything else, he had waved Coran off, could heal the tried and true method of time and rest.

Keith’s wing didn’t look good, but he refused to let anyone touch him. Not good, considering it looked like he had a broken arm among other things. His good wing was flared warningly, and he had almost gone after Coran when the Altean had tried to get close enough to examine him. His other wing was charred and raw, bleeding sluggishly from half-cauterized gauges.

Allura had taken a couple of good hits from the fire fight- thick bruising was beginning to form along one side of her face, and she had a split lip and some minor cuts and scrapes. Otherwise, she was visibly uninjured. Her mental state was in tatters, if he had to guess. Her pearly wings were flicking and flaring as the princess paced slowly back and forth across the room, occasionally pausing to look at the healing pods.

Coran, being the only one on the castle, had escaped injury- but it was clear that he was just as worried about the paladins as everyone else.

Hunk himself was bruised and battered, but hadn’t gotten shot or stabbed, so that was a win. He had gotten tossed about pretty solidly in Yellow though- despite being the most armored of the lions, the battle had been tough on all of them.

Shiro had taken a heavy hit in Black when they had docked and blasted their way into the ship- from what Coran had been saying after Allura had gotten him into a pod, it had caused some form of internal bleeding. Allura had also accidentally cracked a couple of ribs when she had dragged him out of Black.

Hunk shivered at the memory of the sounds that Shiro had made when she had done it. He doubted he would ever be able to forget the raw and utter grief in his voice.

But it had been close- too close- for Lance.

Coran had turned to Hunk for help stabilizing their Blue Paladin, and Hunk was certain that he would never be able to quite see him in the same light after having to all but bring him back from death.

The sheer amount of pain that Lance had had to have been in was almost inconceivable to the larger paladin. The grafted wing had been in better shape than the prosthetic arm, but only by a small margin. While Coran had worked on stabilizing Lance’s heart, Hunk had gone to work to see if there was anything that he could do to ease the pain of the destroyed arm.

Whatever Haggar had done, it had completely shorted out every artificial nerve, every piece of function that the prosthetic had had, leaving a sparking mess of exploded wiring and panelling that Hunk had no choice but to remove. It had almost made him sick, having to remove the arm and seeing the amount of damage that the burns that the overheated metal had done to the flesh at the connection point.

There wasn’t much that he could do for the wing, considering that the technology that had been implanted into the flesh would have had to be completely removed, which would likely mean the removal of the entire wing. And _that_ , no matter how badly Hunk wanted to think otherwise, was something that he would not do without Lance’s express go ahead. He had already suffered enough. This was one decision that he wouldn’t take away from him.

As it was, the pod was a temporary fix- merely to stabilize Lance before actual surgery to fully remove the last bits of the metal shrapnel that was left behind from the arm. Coran had gone on to explain the procedure in more detail, but to be completely honest he couldn’t remember half of what he had said.

Speaking of, Coran had vanished. Probably to hunt down nesting materials, if he had to hazard a guess. It was common practice at this point to nest in front of the healing pods when it was clear that they were in for the long haul- with Lance’s injuries so severe, they were going to be here for a long while.

He turned his attention back to his bruised knuckles, wrapping the bandage that Allura had tossed at him earlier around the hand that looked like it might have fractured. He made sure to take another glance around the room- Keith was still barricaded by his hostility, though it looked like he was starting to wind down from whatever adrenaline kick he was running on. Matt and Pidge were clustered together in a mess of tawny wings and soft curses, tending to their injuries in ways that he knew were fueled by flock concern.

Pidge hissed through her teeth as she finally won the war with her flight suit, tilting her head back and breathing shallowly as Matt gently ran his fingers over the swollen joints of her shoulder and wing.

“Good news is they’re dislocated.” He finally declared, stepping back. “Bad news is, they need to get popped back into place.”

“Great.” Pidge muttered.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know how to do it.” Matt offered.

“Not really.” She grunted, shifting her good wing and wincing as it jostled the other. “Just do it.”

He nodded, moving to her shoulder first.

“Shoulder first. That way-“

He jolted sharply- a thick pop filled the quiet of the room, followed by Pidge’s gasp of pain as the joint shifted back into place.

“-when I do the wing, you won’t jolt it out of place again.” He finished conversationally, pausing and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

“I’m good. Just get the wing done.” She trembled, tears beading at the corners of her eyes and slipping down her cheeks. “ _Fuck_ , that hurt.”

“Alright. You’re doing so good, Katie.” He said in a low murmur, continuing to murmur quiet assurances as he positioned himself on the wing. “Just remember-“

“ _FUCK!”_

“-to breathe.”

“Your bedside manner _sucks_.” She whimpered, making no efforts to disguise her discomfort as Matt tore off a strip of his pants and tied her arm to her chest securely so that she couldn’t move it.

“So I’ve been told.” He replied dryly. “I know it hurts, but you just have to breathe, alright?”

“Would you keep saying that if I hit your head right about now?” she spit back.

“Probably. More for my benefit than yours, I think.” He hummed, settling himself down next to Pidge and resting his head on his knees.

Shiro’s pod pinged- Allura paused in her pacing, her features worried as Hunk and Keith both stood and moved toward the pod in preparation to catch their flock-brother.

 

* * *

 

 

The cold spit Shiro out of it with a sort of ruthlessness that jolted his groggy mind to the present. Weakly, he stumbled forward on shaky legs, mind blurring with images that flickered back and forth from the stars to the hangars to Keith and Hunk’s concerned features as they flanked him, gentle hands holding him upright.

He reached out for them mentally, surrounding himself with their presences and sighing as an ache in his chest settled slightly.

“Easy, Shiro.” Keith said, his voice hoarse.

He swayed as the smaller of the pair stepped back, one hand still on his shoulder as he leaned into Hunk’s sturdier frame, mind working overtime to recall why he felt so-

“Lance.” he whispered.

“He’s stable.” Hunk soothed, carefully rubbing circles into his shoulder and working his way toward the middle of his back. “Just take it easy for a sec, okay? You really had us worried there for a bit. Granted, it’s only been a couple of hours, but still.”

Given that his mind and his body still weren’t quite on the same page, Shiro nodded and allowed Hunk to hold him steady, his large hands still gently rubbing warmth back into his chilled shoulders and wings.

He could feel someone’s mental pain and exhaustion- blinking heavily, he instinctively turned to Keith. It was usually a given that he was injured in these kinds of fights, considering his head-first mindset, and it seemed as though Shiro was right once again.

“You’re hurt.” He frowned, pushing himself upright and crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down the younger paladin.

“I’m fine.” Keith replied.

“You’re not fine. Your arm looks broken.” Shiro said firmly. “You should get into a pod for a bit.”

“I’m _fine_.”

Fear flitted through all of their minds following the statement. At that, there was little that Shiro knew he would be able to do in order to convince Keith otherwise.

“Alright then. Make sure you get Coran to cast that arm for you then.”

He nodded before turning and settling down on Pidge’s free side, good wing spreading to shield himself from prying eyes. Not a moment later, Coran arrived with a mass of nesting material, which he deposited rather gracelessly onto the floor before following after it, his distracted muttering providing a distraction from Lance’s absence as he began forming a nest.

Shiro started toward the small cluster, pausing when he registered one more person than there should have been.

“ _Matt?”_

“Shiro.” The elder Holt sibling greeted, a small, tentative smile on his lips as he awkwardly waved at him. “It’s been a while.”

Anything else that could have been said was silenced as Shiro collided with him, his arms tugging his former flock mate tightly against his chest as a stream of choked apologies were whispered into his shoulder.

_“God, I’m so sorry Matt. I thought I would never see you again after the Arena. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for what I did to you-“_

Matt blinked, startled, before relaxing into the embrace, holding on just as tightly to his flock-brother and pressing his face into Shiro’s shoulder. Both of them were crying, Shiro’s whole body shaking as Matt tried to soothe him, his own tears tracking down his cheeks.

It only got worse when Pidge wormed her way into their space, squeezing tight against Matt’s side.

“I thought I would never see you again.” She whispered, wrapping her free arm around his neck and pulling him as closely as she was able. “I always swore you were alive, but…”

“Hey, none of that now, Pidge.” He cooed, her childhood pet name bringing her nothing but contentment hearing it from his lips for the first time in almost three years. “I’m here.”

She choked on her sob, pushing herself into his chest as firmly as she was able, trying to make sure that he was real and that this wasn’t just some figment of her imagination.

Hunk settled behind her, his big wings spreading around them in a comforting blanket, Keith cautiously joining them and sitting at Shiro’s side. Allura joined them a moment later, bringing a blanket with her that she wrapped around the center trio. Coran brought over several more, his original nest discarded as he spread his wings around the group opposite Hunk. Finally, Allura chose to lean against Coran, her wings offering what comfort she was able.

They would make it through this.

 

* * *

 

 

Inhale.

_He was soaring in the sky, the beaches of the coast line that he had been raised by stretching on like a painting far below him._

Exhale.

_The distant rumble of thunder promised rain- he knew he should be getting home, but something was holding him there, suspended in mid-flight, the wind blowing in his face and the sensation of it running through his feathers too much to give up just yet._

Inhale.

_The thunder was moving closer. But no matter how hard he beat his wings, it was gaining on him. Never a good position to be in, out in the open like this._

_Fear struck him as the first flash of lightning flickered in the distance, a crack echoing over the open ocean as thunder rumbled ominously._

Exhale.

_Another crack of lightning, this one barely missing him. He knew he had to land, but it was impossible as he strained to dive toward the ground, his wings pinned to his sides as fear thundered in his heart. Some other force drove him, something else tugging at the furthest reaches of his mind and providing him with an image of dark violet lightning crackling at clawed fingertips-_

He cried out, arching against the restraints that held him down as his body forcibly came to consciousness, pain surging through each nerve and setting him on fire.

_“He shouldn’t be awake!”_

_“Get him under before he hurts himself!”_

Figures hovered above him- he recognized Hunk, but pain was confusing his senses and overlaying him with images of Galra that continued to flip in and out of focus.

“ _Lance, breathe. Breathe.”_

That was Pidge’s voice. Pidge wouldn’t hurt him.

There was something gently placed over his nose and mouth- he panicked as cool air and something sour blew into his nostrils.

The last thing he registered was hands combing through his hair before he fell back into the dark.

 

* * *

 

 

When Lance’s eyes fluttered shut once again, Pidge let out the shaky breath she had been holding, Hunk and Coran doing much the same as they carefully resumed their positions around the table. Hunk had to take a breath, steadying his hand as he and Coran continued to pluck bits of sharp wire from the connection site of his prosthetic.

The rest of the arm had already been removed, thank God, but Lance’s sudden wakefulness added a new level of tension that was unlikely to leave the room any time soon.

Pidge was waiting on standby with her custom prosthetic, her fingers drumming nervously against the cool material. This was not the situation that she had had in mind with the installation of the new prosthetic- _ideally_ , it would have been done with Lance’s knowledge and with him lightly sedated. Not during surgery to finish patching him together, replacing one damaged arm with a new one.

There was no way that she wouldn’t be able to remove it if Lance so desired- that was one thing that she had been adamant on with the design. She saw how much the prosthetic that Shiro had bothered him, and saw much of the same in Lance. Of course, Shiro was next on her list of convincing to go under so that she and Hunk and Coran could replace the Galran arm with the Holt-Garrett Altean one.

“Are you two alright?” Coran asked gently, not looking up from the grisly task that he and Hunk were undertaking.

“Not really.” Pidge admitted. She hadn’t exactly been expecting Lance awake at all, and she was already feeling monumentally guilty over having to be the one to drug him again.

“I remember when I was about your age- I decided to take on a wild _Ylshv_ on my own. Instead, one of its horns nearly split me in two.” Coran said quietly, a wry smirk on his lips. “The healers couldn’t afford to stuff my sorry self into a pod until they had picked out every last piece of the tusk that had run me through. Of course, I somehow shook off the sedation and took off halfway across the castle in nothing but my remaining dignity. And who should I run into but Prince Alfor and his attendants. Gave them all quite a scare, what with me out of my wits and babbling nonsense about the healers trying to steal my _nskvlya._ ”

Pidge snorted. She could imagine it.

Hunk chuckled, his hand steadying as Coran continued talking, his accented tone even and soothing frayed nerves as they finished their work on removing the hardware from Lance’s skin and standing back as Hunk and Pidge got to work on getting the new prosthetic in place.

Nonetheless, it was a great many hours later that they stumbled out of the room, Lance back in a pod and stabilized. None of them were certain how to approach the damage done to the wing, but that was a situation that could be dealt with at a later point in time.

Preferably when Lance was conscious and able to voice his opinion on the matter.

The remainder of the flock were huddled in a mess of worry and soothing hands running through ruffled feathers in the main bay outside the private room. Shiro had barely left Matt’s side since they had reunited.

There were a lot of unresolved issues between them- Shiro’s guilt over having to injure Matt and taking his place in the Arena, for example. But Matt and Shiro had known one another for years, had been roommates and flock mates before being chosen for the Kerberos mission. In another life, perhaps, they could have been something more. But they had changed.

Allura was sitting primly next to the pair, one of the mice in her hands as she kept watch over the two males. The other mice were in miscellaneous positions around the floor- no one could really tell which was which with their multicolored fur blending together in a small pile.

“He’s stable.” Pidge said before anyone could say anything. The smallest of their flock was nearly swaying on her feet in exhaustion, the events of the battle and the following… everything catching up to her at last. Despite spending a short period in a pod to help her shoulder and wing set, the limbs were still stiff and only worsening the longer that she was upright. “Now we wait.”

“And sleep, I imagine.” Allura said firmly. “The systems will alert us if there is any change with Lance’s condition.”

It went to show how tired Pidge was that she didn’t bother to argue with that statement, automatically moving forward and all but collapsing onto Keith’s lap. As luck would have it, the darker haired male had curled up behind Allura- something that Hunk took note of for the simple reason that it made a very cute image. He grunted something that sounded pained, as did Pidge as she landed on her sore side, but the pair quickly huddled together in dark and light feathers.

“Come here, Hunk.” Shiro said quietly, patting the ground next to his free side. “Still plenty of room left.”

That sounded like a fantastic idea in Hunk’s mind. He was tired, and stressed out, and was way too out of his depth when it came to anything that was currently going on, but his priorities laid with just closing his eyes for a few moments and pretending that everything was fine.

Coran rubbed his eyes tiredly as he stood back and watched the flock get comfortable, eventually grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around Pidge and Keith as he sat next to Allura, spreading his wings to shield her from the light illuminating the room.

“They’re stronger than we give them credit for.” He said once he was certain that the others had nodded off.

“Much.” Allura agreed, leaning into his shoulder and blinking tiredly. “I think that my father would be proud to see what has become of Voltron since its creation.”

“As do I, Princess.” He nodded, relaxing as she drifted off on his shoulder.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry that it's taken me so long to get this damn thing written. I've been in a slump and hate pretty much everything I've been writing since last year and only just got inspired again by Season 5. So I hope you guys all enjoy!

There was something strangely comforting about the group that surrounded the healing pod. The way that they all leaned into one another, varying levels of exhaustion marring their faces as they continued to hold off the inevitable grasp of sleep.

Allura was carding her fingers through Keith’s hair, finally having managed to get him to relax after persuading him to get himself patched up. His head currently rested against the Princess’ thigh, his eyelids flickering as he tried to ward off sleep, to limited success. Coran flanked Allura’s other side, a cup of some kind of warm drink clasped in his hands as he stared down into the green steam.

Pidge had commandeered Hunk’s side, a blanket draped around the pair of them to create a makeshift tent with assistance from Hunk’s much larger wingspan. One of Pidge’s hands was entwined with Matt’s, needing the constant reassurance that he was truly there. She wasn’t coping well with the news that their father had died, especially so that Haggar had done it. It was only a small comfort that the witch had been killed by her in retaliation for hurting Lance. Matt, thankfully, seemed to be more coherent about it, and was staying close to his sister’s side to make sure that she was okay.

Shiro was missing from the scene- he had excused himself earlier with a quiet word and yet to return. No one could fault him- they had all realized by now that their Black Paladin was attempting to sort out his feelings in regard to the still paladin floating in the healing pod. If the circumstances had been different it was likely that the situation would have been different.

For now, the Castle’s systems were tracking the remnants of Zarkon’s fleets as they scattered across the galaxy that they were currently in, synced into the small computer that Pidge had hooked up in a corner of the room in case of an emergency.

“Looks like there’s no one trying to fill the power vaccum that Zarkon and Haggar left behind yet.” Shiro said quietly as he entered the room again, a tray of something balanced in his arms. “I brought some food packs and drinks. We need to keep our strength up in case something happens.”

He said nothing else as he joined the group, handing out the packs and mugs to everyone before curling his knees to his chest and resting his chin there. It made him look years younger, his wings the only sign of his age in the moment.

“He’s going to be alright, Shiro.” Allura said softly, reaching over to brush her fingers across his shoulder. “Lance is strong. He will be fine.”

“Yeah.” He murmured back, though his tone didn’t sound certain. “He’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alarms blared throughout the empty ship, the limited light supply still bleakly flickering as the damaged ship drifted through empty space. The still forms of sentries and Galran soldier alike littered the halls, varying levels of damage done to the walls and floor surrounding them.

In short, it looked like a war had been waged there.

The heavy steps of the lone soldier echoed eerily- despite the damage, the gravitational systems were still somehow operational. The helmeted figure studied the damage as they went, reaching out to brush away some of the grit from doorways, crouching to examine the injuries that the lost soldiers had sustained.

It wasn’t until they reached the center stage that they paused, taking in the scene with a vague interest. The hall had collapsed into itself, the floor above fallen to their current one, fragments of metals and fluids spattering the walls. Three charred marks displayed where the worst of the battle had taken place, the largest being the center of the hall, where a handful of metal shards formed a vague circle. Whatever had happened to the witch had happened there, likely.

They made a noise low in their throat, crossing their arms over their chest as they moved to stand in the blackened circle, mind working to puzzle out what exactly had happened. None of the cameras had survived, and none of the footage that had been recovered from the main system had been of any use either.

“Sir, there are signs of General Visk’s fleet coming this way.”

“I am hardly concerned with Visk’s agenda, Acxa.” The figure drawled, turning their attention to the newcomer. “He is weak, seeking to find remnants of Haggar’s experiments and use them to his own advantage. He does not know that she never held anything of value here on this ship. It was merely a place of convenience to draw out her torture.”

“Nonetheless, our fleet is away from our location. If Visk desired to attack, we would not be able to hold him off in this position.”

A sigh.

“Very well. There is little of use to us here anyway. The information I desire is not available with the pitiful remnants of this ship. Hail Zethrid and get the ship to our location.”

“Yes, my lord.”

She bowed, her fist over her chest as she retreated to do as she was told.

Amber eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he studied the hall once more before turning on his heel and following.

 

* * *

 

 

Exhaustion was the first thing that he registered as he exhaled his first breath behind the glass of the healing pod.

The second was an ache that sunk deeply into his bones as his eyes fought to open against the gentle light that surrounded him.

Faint flickers of memory teased him at the edge of his consciousness, but they were swallowed by the all-encompassing warmth that was Blue. She was shielding him from anything other than his present moment, and as his mind brushed against hers he sensed an unending relief that he was with her.

_My Paladin._

Her rumbling voice was soft as it wove its way through his mind, grief and pain heavy behind it.

“Blue.” He greeted quietly, his voice rasping at the tail end of the word as the healing pod whirred to life, the glass panels pulling back to allow him out into the open air of the castle-ship. “Hey, Beautiful.”

_My Paladin. I worried for you._ She rumbled. _Many days you have been silent to me- I have missed you._

“I missed you too.”

There was a silent emptiness to the room, remnants of a nest strewn about the floor as Lance stepped shakily forward, tottering as his legs refused to hold him.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good thing I only left for a tick or you’d have done more damage than good!” Coran said cheerfully as he manifested next to Lance’s shoulder, hands going to support him, wings flaring slightly to assist in the process of comfort. “How does that arm of yours feel, my boy? Any pain?”

“My arm?” he asked, brows furrowing as he looked down, blinking as he noted the distinct lack of Galra tech grafted onto his arm. Instead, a soft silver arm interspaced with familiar Altean blue panels greeted him.

“What-?”

“How much do you remember, Lance?” Coran asked gently, guiding him down to the nearest pile of pillows and blankets.

“I remember Haggar. She had Pidge’s brother.” He said shortly, quietly. “After that, it gets hazy. I think I fought her.”

“You did. She supercharged you with her lightning and fried all the circuitry in your Galra tech. We replaced your shoulder joint again with a more sophisticated one and Number Five and Hunk built your new prosthetic there. I’m sure they’ll be pleased to know what your thoughts are on that once they return from their mission.”

“Mission?”

“There have been several Galran fleets circling the area we’ve hidden the castle- nothing too serious, just a small skirmish! Nothing that the paladins of Voltron can’t handle. Nonetheless, with everything that’s happened, it is good to see you up, my boy.”

Lance allowed himself to be tucked into Coran’s side, the warmth and weight a solid comfort as he was pulled upright and led toward the command deck.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith grunted as Red landed in her hangar, jostling his sore limbs as he quickly extracted himself from his seat harness and patting the wall of the cockpit on his way out. Red’s content rumble wrapped around his mind, quick flashes of Galran ships exploding with a thick sense of contentment as he navigated his way down the ramp, a smirk tugging his lips as he stretched out everything that was still stiff from long nights spent on a floor-nest and remnant of injury.

“Yeah, you _do_ enjoy tearing them apart, girl.” He smirked, readjusting his wings and shifting as he started walking back toward the command deck. With the individual hangars for each lion, Keith often left Red to do what she liked- she wasn’t as friendly with everyone else as Keith was. But, each hangar connected to a main hangar, so it wasn’t uncommon for Red to watch her kin from her den.

He was always the first to the command deck after a mission- Allura usually made it her purpose to meet with Shiro, but she had been flying an Altean fighter ship alongside them today to assist them so was likely detouring to the main hangar.

This time, however, he was not expecting to see another set of wings or the person they belonged to.

“Lance!”

It was well known that Keith was not a touchy-feely person. Pidge frequently made quips about it, and it largely unbothered him. Everyone on the castle respected that he had boundaries and didn’t push the matter. He simply wasn’t as interested in the close contact that flocks were known for most of the time.

Key words, most of the time.

Not this time. Not as he nearly launched himself at Lance, his eyes tearing up as his startled flock mate stepped back instinctively to brace himself. Not as he pulled him tight against his chest, pushing his head into the crook of Lance’s neck, relief flooding him as the reality of him actually touching Lance hit him. His hands clenched against Lance’s back, the hot tears spilling over the edges of his eyes and onto his cheeks.

“Thank God you’re okay.” He whispered thickly.

He felt, rather than saw as Lance turned to look at him, the other paladin relaxing.

“Hey, none of that, Mullet.” He said gently, carefully returning the embrace. “I’m okay.”

Keith opened his mouth to reply, but a shout of surprise from behind him interrupted that thought as Hunk and Pidge barrelled into view and skidded to a halt. Keith retreated, wiping half-heartedly at his eyes to allow the pair to converge on the Cuban, fidgeting with his wing in an attempt to hide his face from the rest of the group.

“Are you alright, Keith?” Allura asked, touching his shoulder as she moved next to him.

“I just need a minute.”

“Of course.” The Altean replied with a warm smile, offering him another soft touch to the edge of a wing before she moved to stand next to Coran, who was in the process of trying to remove a bawling Hunk from Lance’s side. Pidge was only marginally more composed, clinging on to Lance’s front like a leech and burying her face into his chest.

Lance himself was flustered, unsure of what to do with so much attention.

Shiro looked shell shocked as he entered the room, his wings flaring in surprise at the sight that greeted him. Likewise, the moment that Lance caught sight of the Black Paladin, he froze, his able wing flicking and the other tattered one twitching, causing a grimace of pain to cross the younger man’s features.

Immediately, the relief in the room turned to concern, and even Matt came out of his comfortable perch in the corner as Pidge, Hunk and Coran made quick work of moving in to examine Lance’s body for signs of injury. And then, of course, they noticed that Shiro was in the room and quickly vacated Lance’s immediate proximity to allow the older man to approach.

Shiro didn’t know how to react. Regardless of their current circumstances, the last time that he had seen Lance outside of the healing pod he had been struggling to bring him back to life. He could remember the detail of stillness that had settled into the younger man’s limbs, the way that his head had tilted to one side, bleeding from wounds that didn’t matter while he tried to breathe for him.

“Lance.”

“Shiro.”

Judging by the look of slow realization that dawned on Lance’s features, he remembered as well as Shiro the quiet confession that had passed between them the second before he had stopped breathing.

“Alright kids, time to evacuate the scene and let these two sort themselves out.” Matt sighed, shooing Pidge towards the door, Hunk following reluctantly behind and Keith taking up the rear with Allura and Coran. Realistically, Keith knew that pretty much everyone would end up waiting out in the hall for the pair- partially due to the curiosity and partially due to the concern that they all had for Lance.

Once the doors had whirred closed behind them, Lance wilted, sitting down on the nearest chair and allowing his wings to droop behind him. Exhaustion pulled at every part of him, but there was a fear in his heart that if he closed his eyes again he wouldn’t wake. Something that Blue immediately shut down in his mind, but there was little that she could do to ease his fear from her place down in the hangar.

“We should talk.”

“We should.” Lance agreed. “Shiro, I-“

“I think I’m in love with you.” Shiro blurted, his cheeks flaming.

Lance’s lips parted in an ‘o’, his eyes wide as he stared at him.

“I knew for a while, but you confessed right before you thought you were going to die and I realized that I couldn’t just keep pretending that I didn’t have some kind of affection for you.” He continued, ducking his head. “After the first time I flew with you, I think I realized it.”

“I always had an idea of you.” Lance admitted quietly, rubbing his shoulder. “It was part of the reason I wanted to go to the Garrison- that maybe I would meet you, at best be a part of your flock. I never thought that any of _this_ would happen.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” Lance shook his head, brows relaxing. “Being here, being with Voltron and having a flock… I could never regret something that’s given me a new lease on life that I thought would never happen. Even after everything that’s happened.”

“Fucking _finally_.”

“Pidge!”

“What? You _actually_ thought that I would be able to resist hearing their love confessions after _months_ of dancing around each other?” she retorted, crossing her arms and sticking her tongue out at her brother, who appeared behind her with an exasperated scowl. “Not after all the _shit_ we’ve been through am I going to stand by this time!”

Lance buried his face behind his hands, a thick flush evident despite his efforts. Shiro didn’t look much better, but he tried to handle it by clearing his throat and looking the other direction.

“Now, I hate to break up this awkwardly adorable union, but Lance needs to get looked over and put to bed where he will be smothered with love and affection because we’ve missed him.” Pidge continued cheerfully, striding over to Lance’s side. “You two will have plenty of time to work out the schematics of your newfound relationship later. We were just waiting for you two to finally admit your undying love for each other.”

“I hate you.” Lance mumbled from behind his hands.

Shiro agreed wholeheartedly, making a mental note to ensure Pidge had some extra time in the training room later for her underhanded technique.

Granted, Matt was partially responsible, even if unknowingly involved.

How had his life gotten so twisted again?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be one super long chapter, but I split it to make it flow slightly better. Hopefully you all enjoy!

“So what happens if we cross the beams?” Matt inquired, poking at something vaguely cube shaped and glowing faintly as he wandered around Pidge and Hunk’s work room with an ease that came from years of dealing with his family’s mess. His included, of course.

“Well obviously we’d die.” Hunk said matter of factly, barely looking up from his wiring. His wing jerked as he hit a brittle chunk of metal, the shrapnel barely missing his long mottled feathers.

“That’s Ghostbusters, not Star Wars.” Pidge pointed out dryly. “I’m pretty sure if we crossed the beams in this case that we would _probably_ die. Not a one hundred percent chance, though. More like….. ninety-seven point three four two nine eight percent.”

“And you even rounded? Pidge, you are the coolest baby sister ever.” Matt beamed, nearly bouncing over to drape himself around the shorter Holt. “Also, your wings are really soft. And they’re getting so big! You’re probably flying around like a regular little fighter jet now, huh?”

His own wings, once vibrant, had turned an ashen blond interspersed with some of his older chestnut during his time with Haggar. A little more delicate at the moment, given the lack of flight and constant preening, but he seemed to be unaffected by the change.

“You’re talking to said baby sister who is attempting to build you a light saber, you giant nerd.” She grunted, even as a smirk tugged the side of her lips. Her wings flicked, throwing Matt’s balance off and causing him to topple backwards with an ungraceful squawk. “And yeah, I’m flying now. Hunk and Lance taught me after class at the Garrison every few nights. Snuck out at night a lot, actually.”

“You should have told me about your custom made monitoring equipment sooner and then you wouldn’t have had to sneak out as often.” Hunk sing-songed, ducking to the side as Pidge flicked a loose screw at him.

“Katie, Pidgeon, Baby Sister of Doom, you are the coolest person I know. Next to Shiro. And Hunk.” Matt sighed dreamily, going limp. Pidge groaned, flapping her wings with a disgruntled noise to disentangle her sibling.

“Is he always like this?” Hunk asked curiously as Matt made a show of his wounds, large wings limp.

“Yep.” She popped the ‘p’, blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she put down her handheld solder tool. “Alright, I have the internal compartment finished. Are you done, Hunk?”

“Almost. Give me another minute.” The other hummed, twisting around the outside case to examine it for any defects. “Or not. It looks like we’re done here, small, terrifying Yoda.”

“Hunk, you _do_ care.” She grinned, gesturing at him to hand over the shell so that she could slip the pieces together. “Alright…. Just a bit more of a tweak and….. done! Matt, I present to you your very own lightsaber- or at least the Altean equivalent because technically none of the things that were used in Star Wars _exists_.”

As if resurrected from the dead, the other blond Holt bounced upright, almost the image of an overeager puppy as his eyes honed in.

“You know, I think I’m going to like this more than any other weapon you guys could have given me.” Matt commented gleefully, taking the narrow frame from Pidge and examining it with a look of utter joy. “Bless you both.”

“If it doesn’t work we can always use it for fun. But hopefully it actually works and you don’t die because you decided it would be fun to try and re-enact a fight scene from a movie that our grandparents made us watch as kids and cut your damn foot off.”

“Pidge, you know more about science and computers then I ever will.” Hunk said, spreading his large wings out to cover the pair of siblings like a blanket. “I just tinker with everything else and help you when you get stuck. So _obviously_ , this is going to work.”

“Thanks, Hunk.” She beamed, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Go on, Matt. See if it works- that table over there doesn’t really have anything important on it. Other than the spare parts for Lance’s prosthetic…. So maybe that table instead.” She corrected.

“Alright- ready?”

All three of them were nearly vibrating with excitement at the prospect of seeing something happen, and Matt had to take several breaths before he steadied himself.

“Ready!”

 

* * *

 

 

“You know what… I’m not even going to ask.” Shiro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as the trio of sheepish, ash covered flock members shrugged their shoulders in apology. “Whatever it is, just please clean it up before it turns acidic or sentient.”

“Ooh, now there’s an-“

“That wasn’t an invitation for you to try, Matt.” Shiro deadpanned, giving his older flockmate a look that suggested that he did not continue down that path of thought. “We have a new mission, when you’ve all cleaned yourselves up.”

“Yessir.” Pidge saluted lazily as Hunk chuckled and ruffled her hair. A moment later he squeaked in alarm as the smaller blond whirled on him, leaping up and beating his heavy wings to hover out of reach as Pidge’s smaller wingspan launched her lean body at him like a rocket. Matt ducked, scrambling behind Shiro for cover as the elder wondered how he seemed to keep getting himself into all manner of odd situations.

“Come on Matt. I’ll show you the communal shower.”

“Good idea.” He agreed as the pair of paladins scuffled their way down the hall, laughter and a trail of black soot following them as they went. “Hey, you don’t think that Katie and-“

He didn’t have to finish the sentence for Shiro to know what he meant.

“I think that it could happen.” He nodded with a chuckle. “I suspect it’s more platonic, though. Did you know that Pidge is asexual?”

“I suspected.” Matt stretched as they moved down the hall, his brows furrowing as he turned more contemplative. “She never seemed interested in a flock, but I think that was more because of how much she got picked on for being smart. And as far as I knew, she’d never tried to find someone before Kerberos.”

“Here’s some insider info. Everyone on this ship has flown with me at one point or another.” Shiro leaned into Matt’s shoulder, feeling his cheeks heat up at the memory. “Keith was particularly persistent.”

“Well, you did practically adopt the kid. I wouldn’t be surprised to know if he’d imprinted on you to some degree.” Matt snorted, shrugging Shiro off and scratching at his shoulder.

“We were close, but not quite. He’s a little too…”

“Intense? Kinda unnerving? Never blinks during a conversation?” Matt supplied, looking far too pleased with the terms he rattled off.

“You know that he didn’t have a great home life. Hardly his fault he’s still learning some social cues.” Shiro defended. “No, he’s going to find someone eventually. He just hasn’t met his match yet.”

“Speaking of…” Matt smiled slyly, nudging Shiro with a playful flap of his wing. “You finally found your other half, huh?”

“Apparently.” Shiro admitted. “It still feels unreal. I knew for a while I think. It just never seemed like it could have been anything more than admiration.”

“Admiration? Really, Shiro?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Matt.” He rolled his eyes, turning a corner and tapping his fingers absently on the small lamp on the wall as he passed.

“I can’t help you on that one, either.” His flock mate shrugged. “Alas, only you can see into your deepest thoughts, my friend.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Matt went to say something more, but Shiro stopped in front of a nondescript door and hit the keypad.

“Oh, my sweet merciful nerd heart.” The blond whispered in awe, looking around at what likely seemed to be heaven.

“Oh come on, you’ve already seen the single showers.”

“Those were single showers. This is _paradise_.” Matt whispered as he tried to take in the full Altean spa crammed into the deceptively small space. “And this is a _communal shower?_ I’d hate to see what their version of an all-out spa is.”

Shiro thought about taking him to the upside down pool room, before deciding that that was a conversation and an experience that he didn’t really feel like getting into at the moment. There was going to be plenty of time to show him everything in the Castle of Lions eventually. At this particular moment, however, was not that time. Not when Matt was still covered in all kinds of strange alien soot from playing around with who knows what.

“Come on, I’ll show you how everything works.”

“Is that an invitation, Shirogane?”

“Is that a challenge, Holt?”

Matt made a small noise in the back of his throat as a positively devilish grin crossed Shiro’s features- one that he was intimately familiar with due to sharing a room with the Japanese man during their Garrison days.

“Now Shiro…”

“Too late, Matt.” He replied cheerily, reaching for a showerhead that was designed for cleaning wings. “You challenged me, and now you’re going to learn the hard way what happens.”

A horrified screech left Matt as he turned on the water.

 

* * *

 

 

“Paladins, this is a routine skirmish. There are remnants of a Galran fleet that have been terrorizing the planet Delphinol.” Allura commented as Matt and Shiro entered the command deck, Coran bringing up the appropriate diagrams of the location of the fleet in regard to the planet. Matt still looked a little flushed, his hair slightly damp, Shiro’s not in much better condition. His white forelock was still dripping into his eyes- Matt had stolen his towel before he could get to his hair.

“What are we looking at?” Shiro asked, crossing his arms with a frown.

“They have taken the southern quadrant of the planet- which, thankfully, appears to be minimally inhabited.” Coran pointed out, several small purple circles appearing around the aforementioned areas with a couple taps on the console.

“However, it also appears that this area of the planet is a sacred one- all logs of their system show that they are extremely territorial. Thus, they have already begun attacking the Galra.” Allura continued. “From the castle’s records, Delphinol’s people were once prized for their knowledge of sacred things, protecting their core civilization as much as possible, but also trading extensively with those they called allies. Paladins, you must be careful. Unless you’ve proven yourself to them, they may attempt to cause you harm as well.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Pidge muttered, reaching forward to spin the diagram, typing in several notes and tapping a slowly rotating 3-D infrastructure. Her wings flicked in interest as she found what she was looking for.

“It looks like they share some of the characteristics of the Olkari in their architecture. Maybe Green and I could use that as an opening to speaking with them?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, team.” Shiro frowned. His wings had a heavy set to them, adjusting them carefully as he considered their options. “We should go in carefully. Coran, are you able to reach their communications?”

“They have a rather primitive method of communicating off planet, but I think we’ll be able to make contact, Number One!” Coran saluted, whirling neatly on his heel and heading over to his station, one hand twirling his moustache as his multi-sets of wings flicked and moved around him.

“Hunk, Keith, Pidge. I need you three to flank the Galra from behind. Hopefully you three can stop them from damaging anything important if they’re near a temple or sacred place.”

The trio nodded, features turning serious.

“Lance, you and I will go in from the front. If we manage to do this quickly, you and I are the next best in being liaisons. Allura, Matt- keep us updated on any new developments.”

“Let’s get going then.” Keith said shortly.

They all shared a look, minds brushing against one another’s briefly before they moved to their hangars.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance inhaled as he stepped into Blue’s jaw, her mental warmth surrounding him with maternal pleasure that he was returning to the fight with her.

It was his first outing since he’d been in a fight to the death with Haggar. He would admit that some part of him was absolutely terrified at the thought, flashes of lightning and vague images of the witch hovering above him. Fear surged through him at the memory of it, but Blue was immediately there, catching him and bracing him against the tides, already reaching out and pushing the bond between himself and the other paladins, surrounding him with his flock’s vibrant colors.

Pidge was curious for the first brush against her mind, relaxing when she realized who it was and nudging him along, her presence brisk but comforting.

Hunk responded with the enthusiastic equivalent of a mental hug, bright ambers and yellows tinging his thoughts.

Keith was surprisingly soft, welcoming the touch with a gentle prod in return that was almost like a friendly reprimand. Like the banter they usually shared.

Shiro was distant. Not intentionally, of course. Likely Black had already wound themselves together and was refusing to share their paladin with anyone else.

Blue’s thoughts on _that_ situation were petulantly sour. It reminded him of his siblings when they didn’t get their way.

“Come on, beautiful. Let’s go strut our stuff.” He murmured, flicking on the systems around him with practiced ease and settling back into the pilot seat, the custom seats designed for many variants of peoples. The narrow back allowed for winged species to sit comfortably, yet still had enough support to withstand most collisions, turbulence and then some.

 _“Quit flirting with the lion- you’ve got Shiro now.”_ Pidge groaned over the comm.

“Sorry Pidge, but Blue was my first leading lady. No offense, Shiro.”

His cheeks flushed the moment that the words left his mouth, but something in his chest lightened at the way that the others responded- all of them varying degrees of amused laughter.

“ _None taken.”_ Shiro chuckled. _“Besides, I would probably want to stay on the Blue Lion’s good side when it comes to her paladin.”_

 _Yes he should._ Blue agreed primly. _My Paladin deserves the best._

They took to the air, launching from the Castle of Lions in unison and rocketing toward their assigned locations. The Black Lion joined Blue in heading straight at the planet, while Keith, Hunk and Pidge split up.

 _“Better if we divide and conquer.”_ Pidge said over the line. _“Keith, please don’t pull a Beta El Van on us again. I ask this most sincerely from the heart.”_

It was hard to see her deadpan tone as anything but absolutely done with Keith and his well-known propensity for his methods in battle, but Keith only laughed.

_“I promise nothing, Pidge.”_

_“Then I too, can promise nothing.”_ She intoned ominously.

 _“Guys, please don’t start this again. My kitchen almost didn’t make it the last time you two decided to start this kind of stuff.”_ Hunk moaned.

“You gotta admit Hunk, it was almost worth it to see how far they went last time.” Lance chimed in, his leg bouncing in his nervousness as he and Shiro approached the planet. The beginnings of the atmosphere began collecting around their lions, pale pinks and blues that became clouds.

 _“All of you, focus. The Galra are moving to your locations.”_ Allura’s voice crackled, alert. _“Lance, Shiro, they appear to be focusing the majority of their remaining forces to you. Keith, Pidge, Hunk, the other ships are mobilizing.”_

 _“How’s that communication coming, Coran?”_ Shiro asked, his tone giving no indication as to how he was feeling.

_“I’ve made contact, Shiro. Unfortunately, they don’t speak much Common, so the going is slow, but they do know that we’re here to help.”_

_“Good. Keep us posted.”_

The first blast took Lance by surprise, so intent he was on listening to the comm. chatter. Blue immediately dove, her tail whipping around to bat the first of the incoming ships out of the sky. Adrenaline surged through his body as his hands tightened around the controls, his mind blurring the line between his self and Blue’s. Her want for vengeance against those who had harmed her paladin was strong in the forefront of her thoughts.

Shiro and Black flew past in a whirl of multi-colored prisms and fire, her mouth blade tearing through ships with ease. At the close distance, Lance could hear echoes of Shiro’s thoughts, his mind focused in a way that always managed to amaze him. He was a born leader- whatever the Galra had done to him, Shiro had taken, gotten up and wiped off the blood and grime, and continued walking through.

_“On your left, Pidge!”_

_“So help me God, I’m going to make sure that you never watch another Marvel movie, Keith!”_

Keith’s laughter resounded over the line and throughout their minds, his amusement so strong that they could all feel the potent energy of it.

 

* * *

 

 

After the first wave of the admittedly small remnants of the fleet were destroyed, the remaining Galra surrendered to Voltron and the Delphinol.

The Delphinol were a little strange to behold, if Lance was being completely honest. Their skin varied in shades of pale creams to ambers, the textures upon them resembling marble and smooth stones. Their movements, however, were fluid and graceful, contradicting their outward appearances.

And then there was the fact that they were all slim, about six feet tall, and had varying crystalline growths that could be seen as hair.

In Lance’s opinion, they were terrifying.

“It’s like they’re living statues.” He said uneasily, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Pidge studied the carvings on the walls next to them.

“Actually, they remind me more of the myths of the Amazonians.” Pidge hummed, crossing her arms. “Granted, I’m saying this more in regards to their warrior ways, but I suppose they could be seen as beautiful. Or, like you said, they’re more like living statues.”

Lance’s wings shifted, the one tattered wing moving too slowly for there to be any real movements to the muscles.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” he asked instead.

“Who knows.” Keith muttered, shooting a side glance at the open doorway further down the long hall. Despite everything being designed more like an Ancient Greek city, Delphinol was somehow almost entirely primitive and simultaneously advanced. Where there were columns of foreign stones and colors, there were also small clues to the more advanced regions of their society. The subtle glow of the lanterns through the darker halls, the sensors lining each doorway, the faint gleaming shields that hovered in the windows.

Despite this, their hosts were nothing but welcoming following the defeat of the Galra that had tried to take over their planet. Even with the immediate translations of most languages, the Delphinol relied on a very old dialect that dated prior to Zarkon’s rule. The implications of their lifespans didn’t help, either.

“So, how is your prosthetic?” Pidge asked next, glancing over to their escort. The name that had been provided to them honestly sounded like nothing that they had ever heard, let alone able to pronounce. “You’re obviously using it well- it’s like you forget that it’s even there.”

“It’s…” Lance paused, looking down at the limb in question. “I don’t know. It’s weird being able to actually sleep at night knowing that it’s not Galran.”

“No pain at all?” Hunk inquired.

“No. It’s… nice. Knowing that I could remove it if I wanted to. Just knowing that it wasn’t…. _her_. That, uh. Gave it to me.” He cleared his throat, avoiding looking at either Hunk or Pidge.

“We would have done whatever we could for your wing, but we couldn’t find anything that we _could_ do.” Hunk said quietly. “It’s up to you for what you want to do.”

“I-“

“Paladins.”

Immediately, they straightened, unable to help themselves whenever Allura used that particular tone with them.

“This is Marfoc. She is one of the elders here. She would like to speak with you, Lance. Alone, if possible.”

The elder looked as much. Her skin was marbled to the point of almost looking cracked, dark blues flowering from creamy amber and the stones on her crest standing far higher than any of the other Delphinol’s they had seen so far. Her milky eyes had no iris, but it was clear that she still had her sight, judging by how intently she was looking in Lance’s direction.

He swallowed, anxiety rearing its head.

“About what?”

“ _Your body wounded. Mind bleed.”_

The tone was as quiet as a breeze rustling through the autumn forest, but it was clear that it belonged to the ancient being in front of them.

She cocked her head. _“Speak words with you.”_

“Alone?”

The gaze shifted from Lance to Shiro before roaming to each of the others present. Seemingly unsatisfied, she bobbed her head once.

Uneasy, Lance looked to Allura and Shiro for some que as to what to do.

Shiro looked as uneasy as he felt, but Allura exuded calm assurance. At her touch, Shiro’s bristling wings settled marginally before he offered Lance an encouraging nod.

“Okay.”

_“This way, Paladin.”_

The hall loomed in front of him, the distance to the doorway much more intimidating than it had been when Allura and Shiro had been talking to the elders.

He flinched, his wing adjusting itself, before straightening his back and walking toward the door. Whatever they wanted him for, he didn’t know. But he refused to let himself be afraid this time.


	15. Chapter 15

_“Enter, Paladin.”_

Marfoc stood aside, one long slender arm gesturing to the open doorway that stood before Lance. Her milky eyes watched him patiently as he hesitated, shifting his wings nervously before stepping through the doorway.

The room was seemingly open to the sky, the same shields that lay across every window in the building creating a faintly patterned cover in case of any weather or potential threats. As Lance moved further into the large space, he counted twelve pillars that lined the circular space, three smaller pillars in a center circle.

 _“This is a sacred space.”_ Marfoc said serenely, moving into the open space and reclining her chin to look at the pale green clouds that lay high above them. Delphinol’s sun was similar to Earth’s, with exception to a slightly paler light that illuminated the surface of the planet. “ _Had Galra taken this place, millennia of records would have been lost. A small feat for Paladins would have taken much longer for us. Since war, our trade was cut. We have not seen outside worlds for many, many years. Thanks to you, we have saved this temple- we owe you, and all Paladins, much.”_

Marfoc stepped into the trio of pillars, hands extending in a manner that Lance had seen countless times on the Castle of Lions. It was likely then, that Altea had once traded with Delphinol.

Gold crackled up her stony arms, weaving into the blues and ambers as it reached her shoulders before the elder sighed, stepping back and rolling her neck as some of the cracks seemed to lose their severity, some of the ivory and amber tones becoming more vibrant.

_“This place is more than a temple. It was once place of healing. A place of connection to our deities, who have long since faded from our world. Our records lie here in form of our memories- many of them mine.”_

Somehow, the female before him looked years younger than she had moments earlier. An inner light gleamed across her skin, her milky eyes more a soft pearl.

“What does this have to do with me?” Lance asked, brows furrowing. “Why are you telling me this?”

 _“Your body wounded. Mind bleed.”_ Marfoc said evenly, striding forward fluidly and moving to touch his useless wing. Instinctively, he flinched away, but her long fingers paused, hesitating just above the dark feathers.

 _“My people would be willing to help you heal.”_ She said in her soft, rustling voice. _“A gift for your service. It may seem small to you, but this place chronicles Delphinol from first days. If it destroyed, Delphinol would lose_ everything _.”_

“Heal…?”

 _“Little can be done for mind. But body… body is possible.”_ Marfoc clarified, gaze intense as she locked eyes with Lance.

_“A life for life… or limb for a limb.”_

* * *

 

He lay awake that night in his nest, staring at the sky through the port hole in the ceiling.

Allura had landed the Castle on Delphinol that afternoon, and was currently in talks with the Delphinol people to negotiate a re-opening of trade between their people. Lance had said nothing about his conversation with Marfoc- something told him that the elder would do much the same.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure what to think.

Marfoc had said little following her statement, changing the topic and naming the pillars in the room and creating idle small talk before returning him to the rest of his flock. However, he felt her gaze heavy on his back as they had turned to leave, unerringly knowing.

He had said nothing to Pidge’s insistent questions, offering little explanation and redirecting with vague comments of how the elder had merely wished to thank him personally. It wasn’t a lie, but it certainly wasn’t the whole truth either, and the words were bitter in his mouth as he spoke them. Some part of him was even still numb from the words.

_“A life for a life… or a limb for a limb.”_

Idly, Lance raised his prosthetic arm, examining it with sharp eyes as a method of distraction. It was still odd, knowing that one more piece of the witch had been removed from him. A weight that seemed to grow lighter with each passing day, each moment he remembered that it was behind him and that she was unable to hurt him any longer.

He knew that with his wings in the condition that they were now, it was only a matter of time before the Galran one would have to be amputated. Haggar’s magic had shredded it in their final encounter, leaving it all but useless. Every movement that he made his joints ache, the weight less of a comfort than it ever had been and once again a painful reminder of what he continued to lose.

Needless to say, he slept little that night, rising early to get several rounds in with the gladiators before Keith roused himself for his morning ritual of the same.

While his relationship with Keith had improved significantly, there were simply some things that still counted as their own. Both preferred training alone if given the opportunity, for example.

Before returning to his room, he made a detour to the communal shower, stripping off the thick layer of his training clothes and placing them aside as he activated one of the showers. His thoughts were still troubled, running circles around one another and creating a cacophony of noise that were stirring up the beginnings of a headache.

A shaky sigh exhaled from his lips as he tipped his head back in the heated spray, the temperature near scalding. It grounded him, reminding him that he was in the present.

He washed, avoiding some of the larger scars for his own sanity, taking his time when it came to his wings. Especially so with one so damaged.

He wondered, if they made it back to Earth, if his family would recognize the scarred paladin he would return as.

It was about then that the door to the room slid open, a tired looking Matt entering and freezing as he took in the scene. Lance paid him little mind, lost in thought and hardly startled. He had been retraining himself, with help from the others, to not grow terribly startled by sudden movement. So far, it had been a resounding success save for the first handful of attempts.

Matt remembered that Katie had warned him Lance had suffered far more than he would be able to imagine. Looking at the lean young man in front of him, he began to understand what she had meant.

A thick purple brand lined his flesh and blood bicep, marking him as a high risk prisoner. Other scars, including the ones from the lightning that had taken one of his wings in the first place created a deceptively delicate pattern of old injuries. As Lance turned to rinse his wings, it was even harder to miss the brand that lined his collarbone, looking far more raised and angry than the others. Likely where particular attention had been paid, if Matt had to take a guess.

“You may as well just take it in and move along.” Lance said dryly, opening one eye as he began washing his hair. “Sooner that happens, the sooner you stop being so shocked.”

“It’s not that. Just a lot to take in.” he replied carefully, prying his shirt off of his slim frame and wincing as his shoulder tweaked. Old injury from the mines, unfortunately, and hardly the only one. However, in comparison to the Blue Paladin, he may as well have scraped his knee.

Lance grunted some kind of reply, shaking out his hair as he began working on his prosthetic arm, muttering something under his breath as he worked a finger into a joint to clear out some form of dust or dirt.

Matt tried not to stare, he really did.

But he could remember the faintest memories of the young man in front of him from the Garrison. Wide eyed at the prospect of space exploration and enthusiastic about pretty much _everything_. He knew from stories from Shiro and Pidge that Lance had always been champing at the bit for a chance to be a fighter pilot instead of his automatic cargo pilot designation.

Evidently _that_ had played out differently.

He worked his arm as he washed, the twinge in his shoulder worse today than usual. Then again, he had gone into a spar with the princess knowing that she could and would handily serve his ass to him on a silver platter. But, to be fair, it was more advantageous to familiarize himself with everyone on board. He knew Shiro and Keith from the Garrison- Shiro had pretty much adopted the younger man when he had first arrived and had hardly let him out of his sight since.

 _Still weird to think that even after all that the kid tried to bond with Shiro._ He mused, once again glancing out of the corner of his eye.

Lance had paused in cleaning the prosthetic, eyes closed as he tilted his head back. There were heavy bags under his eyes- God knew that Matt had been there before many, many times since getting his ass dragged into space and into an alien war. Granted, those sleepless nights were growing slightly less frequent given that he had found Katie again- Pidge, now.

There was a warm, fuzzy part of him that wanted to melt in that she had chosen his childhood nickname as her undercover name for the Garrison and still preferred to be called as such now.

“Matt, could I ask a question?”

He started, soap flicking into his eye as he nearly slipped.

It was probably for the best that Lance still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Sure thing.” He replied easily, blinking as he stuck his face back under the spray, wincing at the sensation of the foreign chemicals stinging his eye. “What’s on your mind?”

“If you had the chance to feel normal again, would you?”

“Depends on what your definition of normal is.” He replied automatically, tone dry. “If I had the chance to go back and redo the Garrison, redo Kerberos? No. Never. But losing my dad? Getting dragged into all of this shit? Oh yeah. In a heartbeat. I would give anything to be with my parents. To hear dad getting excited about his first far reaching mission with his son, and Katie getting upset because she was still too young to enroll to the program…”

His voice thickened as the tears came to his eyes, but he managed to blink them back.

“I don’t regret for a second that we made it to space. But if I could rewind everything that ever happened with the Galra, I would.” He said finally.

Lance was quiet for several minutes following the statement, blinking against the steam as he absently finished cleaning out the gunk from his prosthetic.

“That answer your question?” he asked gently, sensing something else at work in Lance’s mind.

“I think so.” The brunette answered finally, offering him an echo of a grin. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Hey, that’s what shower friendships are for.” He shrugged.

Lance snorted at that, turning off the water and going about his business as Matt focused on finishing his own cleaning ritual, wondering what on earth had triggered that question.

 

* * *

 

 

For the foreseeable future, the Castle of Lions was landed on the planet- giving Lance plenty to think about as he wandered the ancient halls of the temples, Marfoc’s words continuing to ring in his ears. He was fairly certain that most of the marble-like people knew what the elder had spoken to him about- every time he passed by, he could feel their weighted gazes lock onto him like they knew an answer to a particularly frustrating question.

However, the aforementioned “living-statue”, as Pidge and Lance offhandedly called them, kept her- their?- distance. Perhaps they sensed the turmoil that lay under his outward appearance, or perhaps she just knew that Lance needed time to make a decision. Either way, it was nothing short of a miracle that Lance hadn’t yet had a nervous breakdown.

It wasn’t like no one knew that something was up- with their mental connection, they could all sense the underlying wave of something that Lance concealed from them. Allura perhaps might even know, but given her silence, it was hard to tell.

However, it was evident that he couldn’t evade the oncoming conversation forever- Marfoc once again sent for him.

 _“Make choice, Paladin?”_ she inquired the moment that his escort left the room. Her eyes were level as she tilted her head curiously.

Lance nodded, anxiety coiling in his stomach despite the knowledge that the being before him meant him no harm. His shoulders curled in on themselves as she moved closer to him, a gentle sound not unlike two stones clicking together emitting from her throat.

 _“And?”_ she pressed, the sound nothing but gentle.

“I want to accept your offer.” He said, the words hitching in his throat.

 _“Wise choice. Much thought given to it.”_ Marfoc said, approval in her tone. _“We begin preparing. Send for you when ready?”_

“Okay.” Lance agreed.

Marfoc nodded, hands clasping in front of her.

_“I begin preparation. Rest, paladin. You will need it.”_

Lance nodded as she gestured to the door, making his exit and exhaling shakily when he realized what he had just done. It wasn’t until he’d made it back to his nest on the castleship that he allowed himself to repeat Marfoc’s words to himself, just as he had been for the last several days.

_“A life for life… or limb for a limb.”_


End file.
